Chapter Forty-Three: Elder Lin Disappears!

We now have several clues that need to be investigated!

First, there’s the hammer found in the abandoned creek near Green Cloud Village, where Chen Da lived. Who threw it there, and whose blood was on it?

Second, we need to look into the true identity of the little girl and find out where she grew up before the age of five. And we must also get to the bottom of the woman in white we encountered at the bus station.

Third, and most crucially, we must find the drunken man that Chen Da helped onto the bus, and determine exactly what he was searching for under the seat of the bus.

Fourth, why did Zhou Fuguai willingly confess to being the murderer? What is his actual relationship to the killer?

After briefly analyzing the case with everyone, Old Lin had us think things over for a moment, then announced the division of tasks. Given our limited manpower, it was impossible for everyone to work separately, so after some discussion, we settled on a plan.

Li Hong and I would go to the bus depot to see what secrets the Route 8 bus might be hiding. Old Lin and Tang Jingjing would visit Fan Lu’s old family home to investigate the relationship between the little girl and Fan Lu. Li Xingchen, with nothing else to do, volunteered to go to the countryside with Old Lin. Since he was young, he could manage if any trouble arose.

I was still worried about Old Lin’s safety. I thought if necessary, Li Hong should accompany him to the countryside—after all, it was notorious for thugs, and if anything happened, it could become a real mess. Last time, when Old Lin got into a car accident, Chief Wang hadn’t even held me accountable yet.

But Old Lin reassured me, saying not to worry—he could call in a few experts from the SWAT team to guarantee safety.

With Old Lin’s assurance, I felt much more at ease and set off for the bus company with Li Hong. This time, we were open about our identities as members of Major Crimes; there was no point in secrecy now, since our covert investigation had already failed.

The company sent a senior manager to receive us. When he heard we wanted to investigate Route 8, he slapped his forehead and said, “Why didn’t you call ahead? The Route 8 line is being decommissioned—the buses are already sent for scrapping…”

“What?” I shot to my feet. “Which scrap company? We need to get there immediately.”

“At Feiteng.”

“Alright, if we have any further questions, we’ll contact you. We’re heading over now!”

Before we left, we bought some fruit, intending to visit Uncle Wang, but the manager informed us he wasn’t at the company—every morning, he had the habit of going for a run.

I nodded thoughtfully.

We immediately took a cab to Feiteng Vehicle Disposal Company, where we were greeted by Mr. Wang, who manages the scrapped vehicles.

I requested to see the Route 8 bus, and Mr. Wang promptly led us to the scrapyard. Seeing that the bus hadn’t yet been destroyed, we both breathed a sigh of relief; the evidence inside might still be intact.

But this also raised my suspicions. I asked Mr. Wang why the bus hadn’t been dismantled like the other vehicles.

He explained that the Route 8 bus is famous in our city as a “haunted bus.” Ever since it was decommissioned, lots of people have come by to see it. The old gatekeeper even charges a symbolic fee for entry. Since the old man had it tough, Mr. Wang had let it slide.

“Oh?” I pressed, “Has anyone suspicious come to see the bus in the past few days?”

“Suspicious? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, anyone behaving strangely,” I clarified.

Mr. Wang said he didn’t know and that the gatekeeper would have a better idea, since he rarely stayed there himself.

I agreed and said we’d go find the old gatekeeper.

The old gatekeeper was called over quickly. I asked if he’d noticed any odd visitors to the haunted bus lately.

He thought for a moment. “Plenty of weirdos, really, nearly every day. Some with dyed yellow hair, some with shaved heads—just young people. There was even a guy in a Taoist robe claiming he’d come to catch ghosts. Oh, and a few days ago, someone played that ‘spirit pen’ game on the bus—one kid got so scared he wet his pants. Who knows what happened?”

Mr. Wang interjected, “Those are just regular kids, the post-2010 ‘shamate’ types. Think harder.”

The old gatekeeper muttered, “If that’s not weird enough, then I don’t know what is. Oh, right, a couple of days ago a drunk showed up, scared off all the other visitors, then fell asleep snoring on the bus.”

“Actually, that guy was a thief—he stole the radio from the bus…”

Mr. Wang snapped, “Why didn’t I know about this?”

The old gatekeeper replied, “Well, the bus was being scrapped anyway. That old radio was worthless, so I didn’t bother telling you.”

Mr. Wang scolded him for his attitude, saying every detail on the haunted bus must be preserved—lose anything and it’s not a complete haunted bus anymore.

I ignored their bickering and boarded the bus with Li Hong. The moment we stepped inside, a cold wind swept over us, sending a chill through my body. Whether it was psychological or not, the place felt unsettling.

I checked where the radio had been—it was indeed gone. This reminded me of the last time I’d ridden the bus and heard a woman’s sobs coming from the radio.

There had also been a drunken man on the bus then—could he be the same one? If so, why did he steal the radio?

I was convinced the drunk was suspicious, so I walked to the last row of seats. The screws on the seat had been removed, and the seat panel was so loose I could easily lift it. Beneath it was a small, sealed compartment, but to my disappointment, it was empty.

The drunk must have already taken whatever was hidden there!

Then I noticed some green paint chips stuck in the crevice beneath the seat, as if something had been forced in and scraped by the metal edge. I carefully collected the paint chips to have the forensics team analyze them later.

We searched the bus thoroughly but found nothing else. I instructed Mr. Wang to protect the bus and forbid further visitors, as it was now a critical piece of evidence.

Mr. Wang agreed at once.

After returning, we called Old Lin to check on their progress and see if we should join them.

But though the call connected, no one answered.

I tried both Tang Jingjing and Li Xingchen as well. Li Xingchen’s phone was switched off, and Tang Jingjing’s also went unanswered.

After three attempts with no response, a sense of dread crept over me. Drawing on my experience with several cases, I immediately reported to Chief Wang.

But when we reached the director’s office, it was empty—no one in sight. I called Chief Wang’s mobile to ask where he was.

He said he was playing chess with his old squad leader and asked what was wrong.

I explained that we’d lost contact with Old Lin’s group and needed to head to Fan Lu’s home right away to check on them. I also asked if he could reach the SWAT officers assigned to protect Old Lin.

Chief Wang told us to hurry and that he’d contact the SWAT team immediately.

Li Hong and I drove straight to Fan Lu’s old house. It wasn’t far from the city—only about forty kilometers—but with traffic and bumpy country roads, it took us over an hour to get there.

Upon arrival and making inquiries, we were shocked to learn that Old Lin and Tang Jingjing had never been there!

At first, I suspected the locals were lying, so I pulled surveillance footage from all the roads leading to the village. There was no sign of Old Lin’s car.

Damn it—my anxiety spiked. Had something happened to them en route? Had the killer learned of their plans and intercepted them? Where were they now?

I called Chief Wang and asked him to help track Old Lin’s car and find out where it went missing.

Chief Wang was furious. “If anything happens to Old Lin, you and Li Hong will have hell to pay!”

We hurriedly turned back—Old Lin must have gone missing somewhere along the way. But with SWAT protection, and everyone still in the car, how did the killer pull this off?

By my count, Old Lin had been missing for nearly two and a half hours. In that time… I dared not follow the thought to its end.

Chief Wang called soon after. He’d traced Old Lin’s car to Huangpu Road, where it turned into a narrow alley and never emerged…

Huangpu Road was in the suburbs, still some distance from Fan Lu’s home. Why would Old Lin turn there? Did he notice something? No matter—the priority was to get to that alley on Huangpu Road.

We arrived at the mouth of the alley quickly.

It was a small, desolate residential block, the entrance marked by a blood-red “demolition” character. The whole area was slated for clearance, its residents all relocated.

The likelihood that Old Lin’s group had met with foul play was high.

Beyond the residential block lay a wide river.

We searched the complex for a long while but found nothing. An ominous premonition began to form—could it be… a murder, and the bodies dumped in the river?

My head throbbed as I rushed everyone toward the riverbank.

As soon as we arrived, we saw a crowd gathered, staring at something in the water. Dread pounded in my skull—had a body been found?

I prayed over and over that it wasn’t Old Lin, that it wasn’t anyone from our team.

Li Hong, faster than me, had already rushed ahead. The next thing I saw, his legs gave out and he collapsed to his knees.

I couldn’t see what had so shocked him, as the crowd blocked my view. But if Li Hong was that shaken, my own heart was pounding with fear.

I was on the verge of breaking down completely.

The loss of Old Lin, Li Xingchen, or Tang Jingjing could mean the end of Major Crimes Team Seven. I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t even dare go any closer to look.