Ghost Behind You

1.25. The Witch's Name (1)

After Zach left, Rose tidied up her luggage and headed to the bathroom to do her laundry. If she didn't wash her clothes today, she wouldn't have anything to wear tomorrow. Just as she soaked the clothes, her phone rang—it was Bob.

"Hello, is this Ms. Li?" Bob's voice came through.

"Hi, Bob. It's Rose. Did you find anything?" she asked, a note of eagerness in her voice.

"We've pieced most of it together. Got pen and paper handy? You'll want to take some notes."

"Hold on a second." Rose stepped out of the bathroom, drying her hands quickly before grabbing her notebook. "Alright, go ahead."

"First off, the person you specifically asked about—Wanda Wang—is using a fake ID," Bob said.

"A fake ID?" Rose's heart sank.

"Yeah, the ID belongs to a girl named Hu Ming from Hubei. She was born in 1986 and is currently a student in Wuhan. As for the name 'Wanda Wang,' it's pretty common. Even knowing her estimated age, there are too many to pinpoint without more details."

"I see," Rose muttered, scribbling the notes down. "What about the others?"

"The rest were easier to track. Let me go through them. You ready?"

"Go ahead."

"Zhang Tianhai and Niu Benxin are from Shandong. They both work as salesmen for Yantai Machinery Factory. Still employed there. No criminal records."

Rose noted down their information. "Got it. Next?"

"Liu Huiquan and Zhao Lingling are from Zhejiang. They're a married couple. Liu Huiquan worked as an accountant for Joyful Garment Company in Wenling. He died on December 5, 2006. Cause of death was hemorrhagic shock from a severed carotid artery—officially ruled a suicide. His death certificate was issued in Rizhao, Shandong."

Rose's pulse quickened. Liu Huiquan had died in Room 104. This was the other death she had suspected but hadn't been able to confirm.

"Do you have contact information for Liu's family?" Rose asked, hoping to dig deeper.

"I've got a number for his hometown and his wife's mobile."

"Perfect. Can you give me those?"

Bob recited the numbers, and Rose quickly jotted them down.

"Next up: Guo Hongwei and Chu Shuzhen are from Beijing. They're both ophthalmologists at Haidian Hospital. No criminal records."

"And Li Zhaoyang?"

"Li Zhaoyang is from Guizhou. He's unemployed and was sentenced to three years for fraud back in October 2006. He's currently serving time in Shandong's Fourth Prison."

"Thanks so much!" Rose said, genuinely grateful as she finished writing.

"You're welcome. But I've got to ask—what's going on with these people?"

"These are all guests who stayed in the same hotel room at different times. I'll explain more when I'm back in Beijing," Rose answered vaguely.

"Alright. Have you contacted the local authorities?"

"There's no need for that right now. Thanks again, Bob."

"No problem. We'll talk more when you're back—this sounds interesting."

"Haha, sure. Goodbye, Bob."

"Goodbye."

After hanging up, Rose felt a mix of relief and frustration. While she had confirmed another victim in Room 104, it didn't seem to bring her any closer to finding the witch. Wanda Wang, if that was her real name, had left almost no trace. The guest registry, which had seemed like such a promising lead, now felt less useful. Rose sat down and sighed, feeling the weight of her thoughts.

Her mind buzzed with uncertainty. The witch seemed to be slipping further away with each passing moment. She had the sketch of the woman from her dream, but was it even accurate? What if her interpretation was wrong, and the woman in her dream wasn't the witch at all? And if no one recognized the drawing, then where would that leave her?

Rose leaned her head back, exasperated. Despite uncovering new information about Liu Huiquan, her heart wasn't in it. She was too focused on hunting down the witch to care about this secondary lead. Yet, if she didn't pursue it, she might be missing something crucial.

Reluctantly, Rose dialed the number for Liu Huiquan's family. Even if it didn't lead directly to the witch, she had no choice but to follow every possible thread. Her phone battery was low, so she plugged it into the charger as she made the call.

After a few rings, a woman's cautious voice answered. It was Zhao Lingling, Liu Huiquan's wife. Rose introduced herself and carefully explained why she was calling, doing her best to put the grieving woman at ease. After some time, Zhao began to open up, recounting the tragic events leading up to her husband's death.

Zhao Lingling told Rose that she and Liu hadn't come to the city for sightseeing—December wasn't the tourist season. They had come to collect a debt, planning to stay for three days. Their first night at the hotel, after having seafood at a nearby barbecue joint, everything seemed normal.

Liu went straight to the bathroom to shower while Zhao changed clothes. The room was cold, and Liu had complained about the chill while he shaved, getting ready for a meeting with clients the next day. She heard the water running and sat down to watch TV.

Ten minutes later, the TV signal cut out. Zhao left the room to find someone to fix it, but the hallway was dark, and no one answered her calls. When she returned, she noticed something strange—blood was seeping out from under the bathroom door.

From that point on, Zhao's memory became a blur. She recalled flinging open the bathroom door to find her husband lying in a pool of blood, a razor in his hand. His throat had been slashed. She screamed for help, but in those moments, it was already too late—Liu was dead.

Rose felt the weight of the woman's grief through the phone. Gently, she pressed for more details.

"Do you remember what kind of shoes Liu was wearing that night? And did he have any noticeable injuries to his legs?" Rose asked, her mind racing back to the footsteps and the slippers she had seen.

"He had polio as a child," Zhao answered softly. "It left his right leg weak. He was wearing a pair of cloth slippers that night, size 8.5."

Rose's heart skipped a beat. Those were the slippers—the ones she had seen outside her door that night. It had to be his ghost!

"Why are you asking about this? Have you found out something new?" Zhao's voice was thick with anxiety and hope, clearly desperate for any answers regarding her husband's death.

"I'm sorry to bring this up again," Rose said, her voice filled with empathy. "But someone else recently committed suicide in the same bathroom..."