Part 3The Face Behind the Canvas

The fake Mr. Evans, looking concerned, followed us out.

Our small group walked in tense silence toward the back exit.

Sure enough, a body was lying in the corner.

The police had already taped off the area.

The first thing I noticed was a foot wearing a black leather shoe.

I looked down. It was the exact same brand and style of shoe that the fake Mr. Evans was currently wearing.

Which meant the shoes on the corpse didn't belong to the real Mr. Evans.

I took a deep breath, forcing my eyes to travel upward.

The victim's clothes were utterly soaked in blood, a silver kitchen knife still protruding from his chest.

I recognized that knife. It was the exact one I had seen this morning.

And those clothes... Mr. Evans had a very similar outfit.

I stole a glance at the fake Mr. Evans standing next to me, then looked back at the corpse.

Could my memory be playing tricks on me?

The corpse had a very rugged, coarse face, but a very thin, frail frame.

I was absolutely certain. This was not the man I saw being stabbed this morning.

A face that distinct was impossible to misidentify.

Something was deeply wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

The officer pointed a chin toward the body.

"Is this the man you saw this morning?"

I shook my head firmly.

"No, I've never seen him before. His build is completely different from the person I saw."

The fake Mr. Evans turned pale, looking horrified by the sight of the body.

"Officer... how could a body end up here?"

The officer scratched his head.

"We found him during our sweep. This area has low foot traffic and no cameras. The young lady said there was an assault inside the studio this morning, but she claims she doesn't recognize this victim. And since there's no blood inside the studio, this is likely a separate incident. In fact, this alley seems to be the primary crime scene."

I looked where he was pointing. The brick walls and the grass were covered in splatters of blood.

It looked exactly like the pool of blood I had seen on the studio floor this morning.

The fake Mr. Evans took a step back, looking down at me.

"Chloe, it seems this case has nothing to do with our studio. Are you sure you didn't just have a nightmare? I got here at 7:00 AM, and I didn't see anyone, let alone get attacked."

I kept my head down, saying nothing.

For a second, I actually began to wonder if I was losing my mind.

The moment I sat back down at my easel, a boy next to me started mocking me.

"I heard the cops. The body outside looks nothing like what you described. You really are losing it, Chloe. If you fail your portfolio review again this year, are you going to go on a killing spree next?"

"Stay away from her. I heard mentally unstable people don't even go to jail. Let's keep our distance."

"Mr. Evans, you should call her mom to pick her up. No one can focus on painting with a psycho in the room!"

Mia couldn't take it anymore and snapped back at them.

"You guys aren't focusing because you're lazy, don't blame Chloe!"

I gently tugged at Mia's sleeve.

"Don't waste your breath."

She glared at the boys one last time before sitting down beside me.

My mind was spinning.

A corpse vanishing from the studio, and another appearing at the back gate.

Two gruesome crimes happening in the exact same place on the exact same day?

There was no way it was a coincidence.

I holding my brush, but I couldn't paint a single stroke.

Finally, the afternoon session arrived, but Mr. Carter, our sketching teacher, never showed up.

The fake Mr. Evans checked his watch repeatedly and tried calling him several times, but there was no answer.

By the time the studio closed for the day, Mr. Carter was still missing.

A horrible dread began to pool in my stomach.

Could the dead body in the alley be Mr. Carter?