“From a young age, he was a left-behind child—unloved by his father, ignored by his mother, dropped out of high school before graduating, an idle minor, a local delinquent that everyone despised, a textbook juvenile delinquent in the making. The Xiaogang Village police station, from the chief down to the police dog, only has five official staff plus three auxiliary officers, and every one of them knows he’s a no-good troublemaker. No one believed his nonsense about vengeful ghosts committing murder—they just kicked him out right away.” Matthew Reed shook his head and sighed, “After being thrown out, Stella Green got more and more scared. He was afraid the police wouldn’t believe in ghosts, and even more afraid that if the case wasn’t solved, they’d just arrest him as a scapegoat. So he decided to leave his hometown and run away. But to run, you need money and an ID to buy a ticket, and he had neither; so he simply pushed his neighbor’s motorcycle and headed north along the highway. When he got off the highway, he was stopped by traffic police for inspection, got so scared he couldn’t even say his own name, and was directly taken to the Caiying District police station…”

It was practically a farce.

“The Caiying District police station handles several crime scenes a day just for criminal cases alone—they don’t have time to bother with a little idiot who stole a motorcycle. They just cuffed him in the holding cell and left him there. That night, Stella Green cried and made a scene all night, insisting that a ghost was after his life, cowering in the corner, hugging his head and begging the ghost to spare him—hey, the next day, his cellmate dutifully reported him, saying this kid was involved in a homicide, and even asked if reporting him could count as meritorious behavior.” Matthew Reed almost burst out laughing, “If it weren’t for his cellmate’s high sense of civic duty, this urban legend of a zombie killing someone and jumping into the river on a rainy night might never have come to light!”

Just a few meters away was the spot where, according to Stella Green’s account, the “vengeful ghost” jumped into the river. The riverbank had been cordoned off into a long restricted area, and several forensic technicians were squatting on the ground with evidence bags, sifting through the mud and gravel piece by piece.

Ryan Foster nodded silently, as if deep in thought, not saying a word for a long time.

“Hey, boss,” Matthew Reed finally couldn’t hold back after waiting a while and asked, “You don’t actually believe in this zombie murder case that not even street fiction writers could make up, do you?”

“……”

Ryan Foster shot back, “What do you think?”

“Me? Of course I don’t believe it. We Communist Party members are all staunch materialists and atheists!” Matthew Reed puffed out his chest and said with a seasoned air, “I think it’s eighty percent likely that Stella Green did it himself. Judging by the intelligence he showed stealing a bike and running away, this is about the level of story he could come up with. We’ll have our forensic team check the victim’s uterine contents and vaginal swabs. I’ve been a cop for five years, and this is the eighteenth case of this type I’ve seen. The motive has never been unrelated to a man’s untrustworthy lower half…”

“I don’t think so,” Ryan Foster interrupted him.

Matthew Reed was taken aback. “Huh?”

Up on the river embankment, about twenty police officers were busy back and forth, taking photos and collecting evidence. Several police cars were parked nose to tail, and the corpse on the iron-framed stretcher was wrapped in a black cloth, placed beside an open car door.

“Maybe he wasn’t lying,” Ryan Foster said in a low voice. “That so-called vengeful ghost murder might not be fake after all.”

Matthew Reed’s mouth formed an “O,” his face full of shock: “Wh-why?”

“Because…”

Ryan Foster suddenly caught sight of something, and his voice abruptly stopped.

—By the police car not far away, a figure stood two or three meters from the iron-framed stretcher, a cigarette in one hand, the other in his pocket, quietly staring at the black cloth covering the human shape.

It was Logan Clark.

No one knew how long it took, but this well-connected guy who couldn’t even bear to look at a corpse finally seemed to muster up some kind of courage and strength from within. He slowly stepped forward, stopped by the stretcher, and then reached out to unzip the body bag.

Ryan Foster had been watching Logan Clark’s every move intently, ignoring even Matthew Reed’s curious peeking. Now, all of a sudden, he strode up the embankment.

“Hey, bo…boss!” Matthew Reed called out but didn’t get a response, so he hurriedly scrambled after him, stumbling over the rocky riverbank.

Chapter 6

As the zipper was pulled down, the body bag made a faint rustling sound and fell onto the iron-framed stretcher.

Emily Price’s eyes, devoid of pupils, appeared a dull gray-black, suddenly leaping into Logan Clark’s line of sight.

“Scared, kid?” someone suddenly asked with a laugh beside him.

Logan Clark looked up, thinking it was a police officer, but when he looked closely, he saw it was just the funeral home driver who had come with the police station’s forensic van, sticking his head out the car window, grinning and chatting with him.

Although the Caiying District police station is a big one, because it’s in a remote area, it’s actually one of the poorer first-level stations. They’ve been talking about building a new autopsy room for years, but it still hasn’t happened. Every time there’s a homicide, the forensic doctor has to get a driver from the funeral home to transport the body, then carry their kit and follow the car to the funeral home for the autopsy.

This driver had transported dozens, if not hundreds, of bodies and was long used to it. At a crime scene, he couldn’t get out and wander around, so he was happy to finally find someone to chat with: “Hey, kid, you’re a cop, right? How come you’re still scared of seeing dead bodies? Haven’t you seen one before?”

Logan Clark gave a wry smile. “I have.”