I wake up with a fire in my gut after Jamie calls me about the break-in. He’s a wreck, someone in his room, a sketch of Alex taped to his mirror, traced in red ink like some sick joke. Riley’s losing it, and I’m done waiting. She’s been leaving notes, sneaking around, and now this, breaking into Sam’s place. Jamie’s scared, I can hear it in his voice, and it’s pushing me hard. We’ve got the email timestamps, proof they’re off, but it’s not enough. I need something bigger, something nobody can ignore, to clear his name and nail her. I grab my laptop, coffee going cold on the table, and get to work.
I’ve still got the email files Tim snagged from the college server, five of them, pinned on Jamie, sent from his “account.” The timestamps were a start, Tuesday at 2:15 when he was in class with me, Wednesday at 9:42 during English, but I need more. Riley faked them, I know it, and she’s not as smart as she thinks. I open the files again, digging deeper, past the surface stuff. Headers, those tech bits buried in emails, have secrets, and I’ve messed around with them enough to spot trouble. I pull up the first one, eyes scanning the lines of code, sender, receiver, dates, all the junk Tim taught me to read.
It’s slow, my head hurts from staring, but I keep going. Each email’s got a trail, where it came from, what server it hit. I notice something weird in the “Received” lines, IP addresses, the numbers that show where it started. They’re all the same, 192.168.1.45, except one. The Tuesday email’s got a different one, 10.0.0.138, tucked in a deleted line, like someone tried to scrub it. My heart jumps, two IPs mean two sources, and Jamie didn’t have two computers. I grab a notebook, jot them down, and check the others. Same deal, four match the college’s network, but that Tuesday one’s off, hidden, like it slipped through a crack.
I lean back, my coffee forgotten, and think. The college IP, 192.168.1.45, that’s Jamie’s account, or what they say is his. But 10.0.0.138? That’s not campus, it’s private, probably a home network. Riley, she’s got a dorm, a laptop. I bet it’s hers, sending that email, then faking the rest to match. I dig online, IP lookup sites, quick and dirty, and punch in the odd one. It’s local, tied to a provider in town, not the school’s system. My hands shake, I’m close, so close. She planted it, sent it from her own setup, then covered it with college fakes. It’s sloppy, and I’ve got her.
I print the headers, circle the deleted IP, and call Jamie. “Get over here,” I say when he picks up, my voice tight. “Now.” He mumbles something, tired, scared, but says he’s coming. I pace my room, papers spread out, waiting. He shows up fast, hoodie up, face pale like he hasn’t slept. I don’t waste time, shove the printouts at him as he steps in.
“Look,” I say, pointing to the circled line. “The emails, they’re fake. This IP, 10.0.0.138, it’s not college. It’s from somewhere else, deleted to hide it. Riley sent it, Jamie, then faked the rest to match your account.”
He stares, slow, his eyes flicking over the page. “You sure?” he asks, voice low, like he’s afraid to hope.
“Yeah,” I say, firm. “The Tuesday one, 2:15, you were with me in psych. This IP’s private, her dorm, I’d bet. She slipped up, didn’t scrub it clean. It’s proof, Jamie, real proof you didn’t do it.”
He sinks onto my couch, holding the paper like it’s gold. “Proof,” he whispers, rubbing his face. “But, who’s gonna believe me? Cops didn’t, college didn’t, Alex didn’t.”
I sit next to him, my chest tight. “They have to now,” I say, though I’m not sure. “This isn’t just times, it’s a trail, right to her. We take it to the cops, show them, someone’s got to listen.” He nods, slow, but his eyes are far off, like he’s stuck somewhere else. I get it, Alex. He’s been crushed since Alex turned on him, and this proof, it’s big, but it’s not enough to fix that.
“Jamie,” I say, soft, “you’ve got something now. You’re not just yelling into the wind anymore. We can fight her, Riley, Morgan, whoever’s helping.” He looks at me, his face tired but waking up, a little spark there. I push harder. “She’s breaking in, leaving notes, she’s scared too, slipping. This IP, it’s her mistake, and we’ve got it.”
He nods again, stronger this time, clutching the paper. “Okay,” he says, voice shaky but sure. “Let’s use it.” I grin, relief hitting me, he’s back, not gone yet. We sit there, quiet, the weight lifting just a bit. He’s got proof, finally, something real, but it’s not over. The town’s against him, Alex is gone, and Riley’s still out there, unhinged.