Checking out of your hotel room, the door clicks behind you, the wheels of your suitcase churning rhythmically on the floor behind you. You pass an open door and more than actually seeing them, your subconscious registers the shapes of three people standing and talking inside. The bed is in disarray. 

You hear their voices fade as you continue down the hall. "...I just walked in and...he was here...like that. Like..." the voice breaks off.

Suddenly you register that two of the people were dressed in blue. The police. What's going on?

This is part two of hotel deaths.

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