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My anger fades slightly. Mike just looks like a scared kid, and no wonder given Finn’s anger.
“Are you lying to me?” Finn snaps. “Are you the kind of asshole that breaks into people’s homes? Stalks them into the mountains?”
“What the fuck!” Mike takes another step back and his eyes glisten. “You’re insane! I haven’t done anything, I swear. The mountain? What has that got to do with my story? Please…” He looks at me and takes another step back. “I don’t understand.”
I hesitate.
Mike looks terrified. His face is pale, his knees shake, and one hand is repeatedly clenching. If he’s right, and that jacket is common then our search for a culprit just became a needle in a haystack.
Now we just have a scared student being threatened by two teachers, and that’s a step too far.
“Finn,” I say, knowing we have to be careful.
Finn looks at me, his face twisting with fury. The moment our eyes meet, he seems to relax and the same understanding spreads across his face. The jacket is nothing. Barely even evidence and now we’re confronting a student just because he wrote a fucked-up story.
“I … I’m sorry,” Finn says.
Mike takes that cue and turns around, sprinting from the room.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Thought he was gonna piss himself.”
“The pieces fit,” Finn snaps, holding the jacket up. “They fit.”
“And they could fit a hundred other guys in this place if that jacket is common. You had a good idea but shit, if we’re gonna confront every asshole wearing that kind of jacket, then we need to work on your approach.”
Finn sags down into his chair. “I was so sure we were onto something. The way he writes, he’s angry at someone. A woman, clearly. And with everything that’s happened to Emma plus the jacket…it just fits.”
“Loosely,” I remind him. “Accusing everyone doesn’t help Emma, it just?—”
“You guys are gonna love me!” Caspian comes charging into the lecture hall and stumbles to a stop near the desk. He doubles over, panting so harshly that the vibration of his lungs is audible, and he coughs sharply.
“Holy shit dude, careful.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He tosses something onto the desk and straightens up, then leans back with a groan. “Fuck.”
“What’s this?” Finn picks up a small memory card.
“I know … who destroyed … my studio …” He pants aggressively.
“What? That’s great! Who was it?” I ask.
“No clue,” Caspian gasps. “Don’t recognize him.”
Finn sets to work hooking the card up to his phone, then his phone to his computer.
“What happened? How did you find this?” Finn asks.
“When I was cleaning up this morning, I completely forgot that one of my still-life students had set up a camera to record mundane activities in the studio as part of their entire project. Studio Through the Days, or the Year, or something. It’s supposed to be some real-life analogy about watching paint dry and comparing it to the boring reality of life.” He waves one hand. “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, that thing’s been recording for hours, and I found it in the trash because the lens is fucked. But the memory?”
Caspian points toward the computer and a video flickers on screen. Finn starts scrolling, and indeed, the life of everyone in the studio flashes up on the screen.
“Near the end,” Caspian instructs. “Fast forward.”
Finn obeys. All eyes are on the screen when someone charges into the studio and starts destroying everything in a fit of pure rage. Their back is to the camera and with no sound, there’s no telling what they’re saying until they turn to the camera.
Finn hits pause and a recognizable face flashes onto the screen.
“Mike!” Finn’s on his feet, sprinting out to the hall without another word.
