Ghost Behind You

1.10. A Peculiar Identity

Despite Rose having no weapon to threaten Zach, he appeared cooperative, sitting quietly on the bed, smoking, his face clouded in thought.

"Now, you'd better start explaining what's going on. If you're not a threat and you can help me understand Gary's strange behavior before his death, maybe we won't need to involve the local police." Rose stood before him, her voice calm but firm. Yelling at him earlier had helped clear her mind, and now she felt more in control. Watching Zach's troubled expression, Rose sensed she had gained the upper hand—he was likely going to cooperate.

Zach remained silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts as if he hadn't heard her.

"Did you hear me?" Rose asked, her patience thinning.

"Yes," Zach rasped. "I'm just thinking... If I tell you the truth, how much would you actually believe?"

"Why don't you start by telling me? You can let me decide whether I believe it or not."

"You've already made it clear that you don't believe in ghosts," Zach continued. "So how can you accept what I'm about to say?"

Rose fell silent. She was starting to believe her initial suspicion: Zach might indeed be delusional, suffering from some kind of mental disorder. If that were the case, all her efforts to investigate him might be a waste of time.

"You're not going to believe in something you've already dismissed," Zach said, shaking his head. "And while you could call the police on me, that won't help. It'll just make things messier than they need to be. All I ask is that you don't interfere with my work. You do your investigation, I'll do mine, and we'll stay out of each other's way."

For a moment, Rose felt like she was meddling in something far beyond her control. But the thought quickly passed—she couldn't back down now. She needed to know what Zach was really up to.

"Then tell me why you're here," Rose said, her tone firm but measured. "I'm not interrogating you, but I need to know. My friend asked me to investigate Gary's death, and it's only natural I'd be concerned when a stranger starts digging into it."

Zach's eyes darkened, as if weighing his next words carefully. "Alright, I'll tell you. But you won't believe me. And I'm not threatening you, but if you keep getting in my way, it might put you in danger."

His words sent a chill through Rose. Just then, her phone rang—it was her contact in Beijing.

"Do you need privacy?" Zach asked.

Rose waved him off and stepped into the hallway. "This is Rose."

"Hey, Rose, it's Bob. I looked into that guy you asked about. Got something, but it's complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"There are six hundred and twenty-three people named Zackary Zheng across the country. Of those, five hundred and seventy-seven are men, and two hundred and eighty-nine fall within the age range you gave me. We'll need more specifics to narrow it down."

Rose cursed under her breath. "Hold on a second." She glanced back into the room at Zach, who sat patiently on the bed, seemingly unconcerned. "He has a Beijing accent, likely Han or Manchu. About five foot nine. Use that to filter it."

"Alright, give me a minute."

Rose paced the hallway, biting her lip as she waited. Moments later, Bob's voice returned.

"Okay, that narrows it down to forty-two people."

Still too many. What else could help identify him? Then she remembered—his ID number! "Wait, Bob. He checked into the hotel. I'll get his ID number and send it to you."

Bob chuckled. "You could've saved me a lot of trouble. Send it over when you get it."

"Thanks, Bob. I'll do that."

Rose hurried to the front desk and requested Zach's ID number. The receptionist hesitated, her confusion about Rose's ongoing requests growing. Without explanation, Rose jotted down the number and rushed back to her room, sending the ID details to Bob. She wanted the answer now—she had to know who this man really was.

Re-entering the room, Rose noticed that Zach hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, still surrounded by the haze of cigarette smoke. He seemed unbothered, perhaps even amused. Rose tried to suppress her growing frustration. I'm not playing his game anymore, she thought.

"Alright, let's continue," Rose said, forcing a calm tone. "Mind if I open the window? It's stuffy in here."

"Don't," Zach said, his voice sharp. "And close the curtains too."

Rose shot him a suspicious look. "Why?"

"Trust me. It's for your safety," Zach replied with a sigh, sounding irritated. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not your enemy. We're both here to find out the truth about Gary's death. But instead of focusing on that, you're spending all your time trying to figure me out."

Rose hesitated. She had indeed become fixated on Zach's identity rather than the case itself. She'd allowed her suspicions and the bizarre occurrences of the past few nights to cloud her judgment.

"Alright," she said, reluctantly closing the curtains. "But you still owe me an explanation."

The room darkened, and for a fleeting moment, Rose thought she saw a faint, almost imperceptible smile flicker across Zach's face. The unease she had felt earlier began to return, a creeping sensation that sent shivers down her spine. She regretted not having a weapon or even a simple way to defend herself. I'm being too trusting, she thought.

"So, how does it feel sitting here?" Zach asked, his voice low, almost as if he were stalling.

"What do you mean?" Rose asked, irritation creeping into her voice. "I'm waiting for your explanation."

"I'll get to that," Zach said, exhaling smoke. "But first, tell me—what do you feel in this room? Go into the bathroom if you're unsure."

"What are you talking about?" Rose snapped. "Of course, I feel uneasy. That's natural in a room where someone died."

"But you're a forensic investigator. You've seen worse. Did you feel like this at other crime scenes?"

Rose's mind raced. She thought back to her first case, the gruesome state of the body she'd encountered. It hadn't fazed her back then—she had steeled herself, grown used to the horrors of crime scenes. But this? This was different. It wasn't just the death that bothered her—it was the sensation. A crawling feeling under her skin, like being watched by something she couldn't see.

She stayed silent for a moment, unwilling to admit that Zach was right.

"You're sensing it," Zach said softly. "It's right behind you."

Rose's breath hitched. She turned sharply, but there was nothing. Just an empty room.

"You felt it," Zach whispered. "What you don't believe in. A ghost."

Impossible! Rose screamed in her mind. Ghosts aren't real! She wanted to shout it, to dispel the growing fear in her chest.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her back to reality. It was a text from Bob.

"Sorry, give me a second," Rose muttered, her hands trembling as she pulled out her phone.

The message read:

Zackary Zheng, born 1972, software engineer. Died in a major traffic accident on July 23, 2005. Death certificate issued by the Beijing Traffic Management Bureau. ID number #＆※←＾☆...

The rest of the message was a jumbled mess of unreadable symbols.

Rose's heart pounded as her eyes snapped up to look at Zach. His face, bathed in the dim light of the room, no longer seemed entirely human. The swirling smoke around him distorted, casting unnatural shadows, and in that moment, Rose had the horrifying realization that she wasn't looking at a man.

She was looking at something else.