Part 2The Face Behind the Canvas

"Chloe, what are you doing down there?"

Mr. Evans’s voice suddenly boomed from right above me, making me jump.

I frantically waved my paintbrush, trying to sound casual.

"Oh, I just dropped my brush."

"Get up. The floor is dirty."

He didn't seem to suspicious, walking back to his usual spot by the window.

Even his smile was the exact same warm, encouraging smile he always gave us.

Suddenly, an terrifying thought popped into my head.

What if... this man wasn't Mr. Evans, but the killer disguised as him?

And the real Mr. Evans was already dead.

I stood up, brushing off my jeans, and pulled a sketchbook from my bag.

"Mr. Evans, I'm really struggling with this shading. Can you show me how to fix it?"

"Sure, let me see."

He reached out and took my sketchbook.

"Chloe, I mainly teach gouache and color theory, remember? I'm not the best with charcoal sketching. You should ask Mr. Carter about this later."

I took the sketchbook back, nodding slowly.

"Right. Sorry, Mr. Evans. I grabbed the wrong book."

Except, I hadn't.

Mr. Evans was a gouache teacher, but he was incredibly skilled in sketching too.

Last semester, I had asked him for help with my charcoal drawings multiple times, and he had always patiently guided me.

But now, this man was rejecting me under the excuse of "not being professional enough."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

Maybe he just didn't feel like doing charcoal work today?

I reached into my bag and pulled out my color-wheel notebook, opening it and handing it to him.

He pointed to a heavily blended shadow on a gouache piece, picking up a brush to adjust it.

"The saturation here is too high. Blend in a bit of grey tone, and keep your strokes lighter. See? That creates the depth."

I stared at the perfectly corrected shadow, cold sweat breaking out across my back.

He wasn't Mr. Evans.

Going back to my seat, I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a Snapchat message to Mia.

Mia, that guy isn't Mr. Evans. He painted directly onto my paper, and his brush grip is totally different from how Mr. Evans holds it...

Mia glanced at me, then stealthily turned her head to observe the man by the window.

She snapped back a reply a moment later.

Oh my god, you're right. The grip is off. So what you told the cops... it was real?

Yes, I know what I saw. But I don't know how the scene was cleaned up so fast.

But Mr. Evans is right there, and the cops didn't find anyone else.

I typed and erased my reply several times before finally sending: Do you trust me? I think Mr. Evans was murdered, and this guy is the killer.

Before she could reply, the police officer came bursting back into the room.

He tapped on the door, nodded to the fake Mr. Evans, and then looked at me with a grim expression.

"The security cameras for the studio are down, so we couldn't get any footage. But we found something else. Miss, step outside for a moment."

The fake Mr. Evans blinked.

"Officer? Did something happen?"

The officer rubbed his temples, looking exhausted.

"We found a body near the back exit of the studio. We need everyone to cooperate with the investigation."

The room went dead silent for a second before exploding into chaos.

"No way! Someone is actually dead? I thought Chloe was just losing it. Oh my god..."

"She was probably just guessing! First she said Mr. Evans was stabbed, now she says it's someone else. It's just a crazy coincidence."

"This is terrifying... Was the murder actually committed inside the studio?"

Mia froze, staring at me in shock.

My face was pale as I stood up, slowly following the officer out of the classroom.

Whose body could it be?