“Oh my God,” I said.
Joshua Davenport came running out of a nearby building like a heat-seeking missile. The cluster of women threw down their spray paint and took off in all directions. Davenport followed one of them for a few feet, then turned and surveyed the damage to his expensive car.
“Everyone knew about this but me?” I asked. “Why didn’t anyone do something before now? Revenge porn is illegal in Tennessee.”
“They were only rumors,” Galloway said. “The man in the videos has always been blurred out, along with any identifying information in the room.”
“Yet everyone knew it was him?” I demanded.
Galloway shrugged. “Like I said, Davenport is the University golden boy. He’s untouchable unless the evidence is bullet proof. Which, it appears, it now is.”
“Glad someone finally stepped in and outed him,” another female professor said.
I examined the photos on my phone and said, “This will never hold up in court if it was obtained illegally.”
“This isn’t a court of law,” Galloway said. “It’s the court of public opinion. And the press is already arriving.” He pointed to a news van that was pulling into the parking lot.
The female professor turned to us and cocked her head. “An argument could be made that Davenport surrendered his expectation of privacy by posting the original videos to the internet. It depends on the judge, but…”
“Alternatively,” Galloway mused, “the police could use this new evidence as probable cause to get a warrant for his dorm room.”
“And his iCloud account,” the other professor agreed.
While they discussed the legal ramifications of all of this, I stared down at the star basketball player standing by his ruined car. A name and a face had popped into my mind the moment I saw what was happening.
Camden.
Cam had Davenport’s student athlete page up on his laptop the day he showed me his screen. He said he was working on some big project related to hacking. And he had once left my class by telling me that he had to go deal with a basketball player.
All the pieces fit into place. He was the one who did this.
For the rest of the day, it was tough to think about anything other than the Davenport scandal. It was the hot gossip on campus, and everyone in my afternoon classes were whispering about it. Apparently, the size of Davenport’s manhood was the primary topic. Specifically, its inadequacy.
“His roommate must have gotten sick of his shit,” one guy said to another on the way out of my final class.
“Nah, I bet it was one of the women,” the other guy argued. “Poetic justice. Getting their revenge.”
“Then how’d they getallthe videos?” the first guy said.
“I don’t know.”
But I knew both of them were wrong.
I didn’t want to text Cam about it. I wanted to ask him in person, so I could see his reaction. Just like a detective bringing in a suspect for questioning.
I used the faculty network to look up Cam’s schedule, then walked across campus to intercept him as he left his last class of the day. But when the door opened and the students poured out, Cam wasn’t one of them.
“He was a no-show,” the professor told me. “Which isn’t like Camden. He’s usually on his laptop during class, but his attendance is almost perfect.”
Since it was Friday, I went to the bar after work. Brock was busy for the first half hour, but after making my second drink, he had enough time to hang out at my end of the bar.
“Yeah, it’s crazy,” he said when I brought up Davenport. “But we all knew about it. One of the assistant basketball coaches told me he’s a scumbag. Glad karma finally caught up to him.”
“Me too,” I said. “So, are you going to tell me what plans you and Jace have for me tomorrow night?”
“Mmm. I don’t think so.”
“You seem to be enjoying taunting me,” I pointed out.
