Being Targeted by a Female Ghost [Criminal Investigation] - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Cause of Death? Scared to Death…

An hour later, Zhang Zhuo arrived at the crime scene.

Forensics teams were collecting evidence, while the police officers responsible for questioning witnesses were stationed in the hallway outside the door.

She glanced around as she entered, her gaze landing on the corpse in the distant living room.

A forensic doctor was squatting next to the body with his back to her. She put on the provided gloves, shoe covers, hat, and mask before walking into the living room, asking immediately, “How did he die?”

The forensic doctor turned to look at her, then quickly looked back: “Same as before. Scared to death.”

Zhang Zhuo frowned: “Scared to death again?”

“Yeah. No external trauma found on the surface of the body, and no obvious signs of fractures. Judging by the expression and limb positioning, the deceased must have been terrified before dying,” the doctor said, picking up a thermometer. “Time of death was roughly between four and five in the morning.”

Four to five o’clock—exactly the window when Zhang Zhuo had gone back to wash up and accidentally fallen asleep.

As the forensic doctor packed his tools, he remarked, “I heard you guys have been lying in ambush at potential crime scenes lately. Looks like that method isn’t working.”

Zhang Zhuo gave a dry laugh: “The previous ones were all outdoors. Who knew it would suddenly move indoors this time?”

The doctor smiled: “Maybe the killer realized you were staking her out, so she changed the location?”

Zhang Zhuo immediately countered: “If she really realized it, why would she risk continuing to commit crimes?”

“She’s a female ghost, after all. Since you can’t catch her anyway, of course she’d keep going,” the doctor said.

“You’re a forensic doctor and you believe in that?” Zhang Zhuo said firmly, “There are no ghosts in this world.”

Forensic doctor: “Then how else do you explain every victim being scared to death?”

“That’s not what you said last time,” Zhang Zhuo corrected. “You said those people died suddenly—that they all had heart problems. Now you’re saying ‘scared to death’ left and right?”

“Well, those conditions are just indirect causes at best,” the doctor gestured with her hands. “Let me put it this way.”

She held up one hand: “Suppose this is the victim.”

She held up the other: “This is the killer.”

She thrust both hands forward simultaneously: “As long as they mind their own business, no one is affected. But if…”

She clapped her hands together with a loud thwack.

The doctor looked up, locking eyes with Zhang Zhuo: “The person is doomed. You get what I mean?”

Zhang Zhuo nodded: “I know. You’re trying to say the killer knew about the victims’ physical conditions beforehand. We discussed that in the meeting—the problem is the lack of evidence. We haven’t found anything investigating from that angle.”

Including this victim, there had been six cases. They had been investigating the “Red-Clothed Ghost” appearing at the scenes for over a month.

Sigh, ghost.

Even though she claimed they didn’t exist, she still referred to the suspect as a “female ghost.”

The doctor shrugged: “Maybe there’s evidence this time.”

Zhang Zhuo: “Hah, then God truly has eyes.”

Just as she finished speaking, a forensics officer approached with a lifted footprint.

“Captain Zhang, we have a new discovery.”

Zhang Zhuo looked at the footprint, then at the victim’s feet. The sizes didn’t match at all, meaning the footprint didn’t belong to the deceased.

If it wasn’t the victim’s, whose could it be?

“Left by the killer?” Her eyes widened.

The officer nodded: “It appears so.”

Zhang Zhuo asked further: “Just this one?”

The officer shook his head, pointing to other team members lifting prints: “The killer was very panicked, and since it was raining, the prints are blurry. This is the only relatively complete one.”

Zhang Zhuo nodded, but before she could feel relieved, her brow furrowed: “What about the movement route?”

“That’s the strange part,” the officer’s finger moved from the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room to the balcony. “It’s as if the killer appeared here out of thin air and vanished into thin air.”

Zhang Zhuo: “Thin air?”

Thin air again.

The first five times were like this, and this time was no different.

“Yes, according to the traces at the scene, that’s what happened,” the officer said.

Zhang Zhuo: “Could it really be the work of a ghost?”

She shook her head, muttering to herself, “Impossible.”

Just then, the officer who had finished the questioning outside walked in and approached Zhang Zhuo: “Captain Zhang, I’ve finished questioning the informant.”

Zhang Zhuo handed the footprint back to the forensics team and turned: “What’s the situation?”

“She said she heard the victim’s scream at 4:30 AM, so she came over to knock. When no one answered for a long time, she went back…”

Zhang Zhuo raised a hand, interrupting: “She remembers the time that clearly?”

“Yes, I specifically asked about that. She said she happened to look at the clock right when she woke up.”

“What was her expression when she said that?” Zhang Zhuo asked.

The officer thought for a moment: “Very nervous.”

“Just nervous?”

“She seemed a bit shaken, too.”

Seeing a corpse would naturally be shaking; that was normal. Zhang Zhuo nodded for her to continue.

“After she went back, she couldn’t sleep. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt, worrying something might have happened across the hall, so she went to knock again.”

Zhang Zhuo immediately asked: “Wait, how much time passed between her going back and the second time she knocked?”

“I didn’t ask that, but from her tone, it shouldn’t have been long.”

Zhang Zhuo added: “The victim has a video doorbell. Check it later to see if she’s lying.”

The officer nodded and continued: “There was still no answer the second time she knocked, so she called the police. A nearby patrol car arrived first. According to her, she saw the body at the same time as the police.”

“Alright, I’ve got the gist of it. Let’s take her back for now,” Zhang Zhuo said.

The officer was puzzled: “Take her back? Captain, do you suspect her?”

Zhang Zhuo said methodically: “The heavy rain lasted from the early morning until dawn. If the victim’s scream was really that loud, how could she be the only one who heard it?”

The officer had an epiphany: “Oh, true.”

Zhang Zhuo patted her shoulder: “Interrogate her well. She definitely knows something more.”

The officer nodded and hurried out the door.

For the rest of the time, Zhang Zhuo wandered through the victim’s home several times but found nothing. Once the investigation was finished, she packed up and left.

The autopsy results would take several hours. Instead of going back to the station, she returned to her stakeout point.

It was another rainy day. Even though it was past ten in the morning, it was still gloomy outside.

Qiu Chi was curled up in a rocking chair on the terrace, reading a manga.

This was a short story she had drawn several years ago, centered entirely on the mermaid legends of Lishan County.

She wasn’t interested in myths, but since this was something she had once created, she wanted to see if she could remember anything through it.

Unfortunately, she read until she was drowsy and still couldn’t recall a thing.

She simply closed her eyes, listening to the rain as she drifted off.

The rain wasn’t heavy—pitter-patter—falling on the glass roof and sliding slowly down the slant.

The sound was sleep-inducing, and her consciousness began to wander.

However, in less than five minutes, she suddenly felt someone watching her from the shadows.

Instinct told her the visitor meant no good.

She snapped her eyes open and looked into the distance.

There was another detached villa there, but the glass doors to its terrace were closed and the curtains were drawn.

At first glance, it looked like a deserted haunted house.

But she was certain someone was there.

Because the moment she looked over, she caught a tiny glint of light.

Whether it was binoculars or a camera, she didn’t know.

She calmly looked away, picked up her manga, stood up, and left the terrace.

In the distance, beyond the lens.

Zhang Zhuo looked up at the empty terrace, her expression blank.

A sudden phone call interrupted her thoughts. She answered quickly, her voice trembling slightly: “What?”

The voice on the other end said: “This is definitely confirmed news—Captain Gu is returning to Lancheng tonight.”

Zhang Zhuo gave a grunt: “Got it.”

The person was surprised: “That’s your only reaction?”

“What else should I do?”

“No, don’t you want to know why she’s coming back?” the person asked.

Zhang Zhuo: “I don’t.”

“My god, are you really not getting this or are you pretending?” The person sounded agitated. “She was transferred to the Provincial Department last month to investigate the Teric case. Suddenly she’s back this month, right when a new case happened today—she’s definitely coming for you!”

“You’re the lead on the Red-Clothed Ghost serial cases. You’ve investigated for over a month with no progress. She’s bound to give you trouble…”

“Let her. Who’s afraid of her?” Zhang Zhuo looked indifferent.

“Oh, please. Hurry up, before she even reaches Lancheng, come back and report that suspect we found earlier. What was her name again…”

“Alright, I know. Help me keep it quiet for now,” Zhang Zhuo interrupted. “Whatever it is, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Captain Zhang,” the voice suddenly became serious, “what’s been going on with you lately? It’s one thing to be distracted every day, but you keep disappearing for whole days. You tell us to stake out the crime scenes while you run off yourself. Seriously, what are you doing?”

Zhang Zhuo remained silent.

“You don’t actually know that suspect, do you?”

Zhang Zhuo hung up and looked at the distant terrace again.

The familiar figure was already gone from the lush flowers.

The camera’s display screen was still on the previous frame.

In the image, a woman in a red dress lay in a rocking chair sleeping, the flowers just barely obscuring her face.

Zhang Zhuo stared at it for a few seconds, then pressed delete.

She went downstairs to the living room, turned on the lights, sat at the computer, and pulled up the surveillance footage from the crime scene.

This was a pinhole camera installed by the victim himself. Due to the angle, the woman’s face wasn’t visible—only that piercing red dress.

From the moment the woman appeared in the living room to when she left, only a few minutes passed.

When the living room lights were off, her figure blended into the curtains; one couldn’t see her without looking closely.

After the lights were turned on, the victim discovered her. She fled toward the balcony amidst the screaming and simply vanished.

The entire process was no different from previous recordings.

Appearing out of nowhere, vanishing into thin air.

The only difference, perhaps, was that greeting.

“Hi.” Zhang Zhuo played it again.

The word was too short. Even though she heard it clearly, it felt like she hadn’t. She repeated it.

“Hi.”

She pressed the keys, rewound, and listened again.

“Hi.”

Rewound again, leaned in closer to listen.

“Hi.”

Zhang Zhuo listened to it dozens of times until the volume was at its max and her ear was pressed against the speaker, but she was still utterly confused.

She turned off the video and repeatedly reviewed the case files of the previous murders.

Six cases, six victims. Without exception, all died of acute myocardial infarction caused by fright.

And at every crime scene, a woman in red appeared.

Zhang Zhuo stared at the enlarged, blurry silhouette on the computer screen. After a long silence, she slammed the laptop shut.

She rubbed her face and sighed softly: “It can’t be her.”

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