At the chapel door, guests were moving out into the garden. Helen paused and looked back. The stranger hadn’t moved to leave. He sat alone in the emptying chapel with Daniel’s photo now held in his lap, looking at it keenly. The detail caught somewhere in Helen’s chest and stayed there.
She found Richard near the garden entrance, shaking hands with his brother. She waited beside a stone pillar until they were briefly alone, then said quietly: “The man in the chapel. You know who he is.” Not a question. Richard looked at her, and it was there again—not guilt exactly. Something older and more complicated than guilt.