Some people would be discouraged, or even completely put off by the uncooperative archiver in charge of the public records. But Isaiah Hargraves was hardly one to let small obstacles get in his way. The first thing he did after stepping out of the Archive building was to check a nearby public map and locate the police headquarters. Within minutes, he was in the funicular, riding up to the next level of the town, directions scribbled into his notebook. If he was going to ask someone for permission to look at the public records, the police were probably a good place to start.

When he arrived at the street and number he had jotted down, he had to double check if he was in the right place. Once he confirmed that he was, indeed, standing in front of Strona’s police HQ, his eyes widened with awe.

The main police building in the capital was a sprawling, newly built structure. Its reflective surfaces and striking glass walls certainly looked modern, but it was all a bit soulless. Imagine then Isaiah’s surprise upon discovering that Strona’s police force got to lounge in a magnificent old edifice, its facades decorated with intricate patterns and gorgeous imagery. An imposing arch towered above the door, a stone eagle’s head proudly protruding from its highest point. Much like a lot of other buildings in Strona, the place breathed history.

Somewhat warily, Isaiah stepped across the porch and entered a main hall with marble floors and thick pillars supporting a ceiling painted with a breathtaking mural of the nine gods of yore. Behind an intimidating desk that looked more like a barricade sat a gruff looking woman in uniform.

“Can I help you, sir?” she said with a loud, raspy voice while Isaiah was still practically at the entrance.

“Good day,” he greeted her once he reached the desk. “My name is Isaiah Hargraves, and I would like to speak with someone in your spiritual division please.”

“What for?” she asked, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously.

Isaiah sighed and then took a deep breath. “It’s a little complicated, actually. I’m a retired spiritual investigator from the capital, I recently moved here. I’ve taken it upon myself to do some research on a lingering spirit I came across, and to do so I need access to public records. Unfortunately, it’s been denied, so…”

“What did you say your name was!?” she interrupted him, her face suddenly pale and wide-eyed as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Isaiah Hargraves, ma’am,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

The woman just shot up from her chair and quickly picked up the handset of her telephone.

“Sarratt!” she growled into the transmitter. “You have a visitor. No no, you want to see him! I’m bringing him in right now!”

She then stepped out from behind the desk and grabbed Isaiah’s wrist with both of her hardened, lumpy hands.

“They don’t make much of ‘em like you these days,” she said with an approving smile, vigorously shaking his arm. “Follow me.”

So he did, trying to keep up with her as she stormed past hallways and up staircases, only to reach the spiritual wing on the second floor. She pushed the doors open triumphantly, leading Isaiah into a large room occupied by maybe twenty people working at their desks. Some of them looked up at Isaiah as he walked past them and reacted with the same incredulous shock as the officer at the desk.

“What the hell is this about, Marrow?” a no-nonsense voice barked from behind a large table positioned at the back of the room, facing the desks of all the other officers. The man occupying it was a tall, bespectacled forty-something sporting seemingly permanent bags under his eyes and a three-day stubble.

“It’ll be worth your time, I promise,” officer Marrow shouted as she approached him, looking as smug as someone who’d just discovered something preposterously important, and then stood aside so Isaiah could step forward.

Uncertain of what he should do or say, Isaiah opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the man at the table just stood up and shot him yet another intense glance.

“I’m…”

“You’re Isaiah Hargraves! The guy who helped catch that bastard Ambrose Annable and then stood your ground when he tried to possess you! You’re only something of a legend around here!”

Isaiah flinched ever so slightly at the mention of his name. He managed to shrug off the unease as the man walked around his desk to give Isaiah a firm handshake.

“I’m Colin Sarratt, the chief of Strona’s spiritual division. I’m sure you’ve heard this countless times before, but it’s truly an honor to meet you.”

All Isaiah could offer was a confused “thank you?” as he returned the gesture. Several of the other officers in the room got up from their desks and started talking, creating a small commotion.

“Alright, back to work!” Sarratt bellowed with an overpowering voice that instantly restored order. “Now then, what brings you all the way here?” he said to Isaiah far more calmly.

“There was something I would like to ask you, if I may.”

“Anything,” he replied. “Thank you, Marrow.”

It took a few moments for officer Marrow, who was still held rapt by Isaiah’s presence, to recognize she was being addressed. She started awkwardly shifting her eyes from the object of her admiration to chief Sarratt and vice versa.

“Thank you, Marrow,” he repeated, and she just nodded her head and instantly shot out of the room, disappearing into the hallway with near-light speed. Isaiah sat down across chief Sarratt, who silently stared at him with awe.

“I’m sorry,” he said, noticing that Isaiah was starting to get uncomfortable. “It’s just… We all heard so much about the Ambrose Annable case, and the aftermath… I literally cannot believe that you’re sitting across me in the flesh.”

“It was a case like any other,” Isaiah said, not sure how to react. “I was doing my job, simple as that.”

“Your humility is admirable, Mr. Hargraves,” Sarratt said. “What is it that I can help you with today?”

Isaiah took out Bubba’s school photo and outlined everything, from the presence lingering around it to the details his landlord provided. When the name Milo Bax entered the conversation, the chief seemed to perk up.

“Did you say Bax!?” he said. Isaiah nodded.

“Bax!” Sarratt shouted, leaning slightly to the left in his chair. Isaiah immediately turned around in the same direction, his eyes wide with anticipation.

A man raised his head in response to the call. He was sitting in the first row of desks, within earshot of Sarratt. He also seemed very unaccustomed to his name being called, looking at the chief with a perplexed face.

“Do you have anyone named Milo in your family?” Sarratt asked.

The man just shook his head vigorously like a kid caught with their fingers in the cookie jar and went back to work. Isaiah found his reaction slightly suspect, but he just turned around to face the chief again.

“A lingering spirit indeed,” Colin said as he grasped the photo in his hand. After a brief inspection he gave it back to Isaiah, and something unusual happened.

As Isaiah’s fingers touched the photo, he felt a sensation he had never experienced before. His awareness of the spirit attached to it seemingly became clearer. While he couldn’t see it per se, he could feel it projecting towards somewhere (or something), as if there was a long thread starting from the photo and extending to some distant location. To where, he had no idea: at this point he could only sense the beginning of this strange thread.

“Are you alright?” Sarratt asked him, and Isaiah snapped back into reality, realizing that he was still holding the photo as if he had just received it.

“Fine, thank you,” he muttered awkwardly, not knowing what to make of what just happened. “Sorry, I just drifted off for a second there…”

“All good,” Sarratt said sympathetically before taking on a more formal tone. “With all due respect, Mr. Hargraves, I do believe that matters such as this are strictly within our jurisdiction.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” Isaiah responded. “But, at the same time, I’m certain that your division has far more pressing work than figuring out the identity of a non-malevolent lingering spirit on a fifty-year-old photograph.”

“And, if I may add,” he stressed, “you wouldn’t be handing over this investigation to just anyone. I might not be in the force anymore, but I haven’t lost all my chops.”

“Both of those things are certainly true,” Sarratt agreed, his chin resting on his crossed fingers. He was trying to carefully weigh the situation, but the way he saw it, the Strona police had nothing to lose. Worst case scenario, this retired officer wastes some of his own time chasing clues that lead to nowhere. On the other hand, considering his credentials, Isaiah could easily stumble onto something important, perhaps even contribute to an unsolved case. Trust was not an issue – based on word of mouth that spread from the capital, Sarratt knew that Isaiah was reliable and in it for the right reasons. It was essentially a no-brainer decision.

“You will conduct your investigation relying only on publicly available information?” Colin asked as if he was negotiating a deal. Isaiah nodded.

“And do you promise to involve us if you find something that requires our intervention?”

“You have my word,” Isaiah answered.

A warm smile appeared on Sarratt’s tired face as he shook hands with Isaiah, and then scribbled something on a small piece of paper.

“This is my private number,” he said, handing it over. “If and when you deem that we need to step in, you will call this number and you will tell me directly. I’m putting my trust in your judgement. You’d best not make me regret it,” he concluded, and it wasn’t entirely clear if he was trying to encourage or warn. Probably both.

“Good luck digging up information,” Colin said, standing up and preparing to see Isaiah off.

“Actually, sir, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about,” Isaiah replied. He relayed his experience from the Archive, to which Sarratt reacted with an irritated huff. It seemed he’d heard the story before.

“Look, between you and me, Melvina, that’s her name… I think she enjoys being a nuisance,” he semi-whispered, sitting back down. “She has every line of legislation memorized in that greying head of hers, and she’ll twist it in a way that best suits her. Needless to say, of course anyone can see the public records if they want to. But if she doesn’t want to let you in, she’ll find a way to deny you access.”

“Wonderful,” Isaiah replied. “Why me?”

“Eh, who knows…” Colin responded, and he seemed to cut himself off mid-sentence. For a split second, his lips tightened, and his eyes became somewhat sad. Isaiah knew this face well, for he had seen it many times in people who tried to simultaneously acknowledge and ignore the elephant in the room.

“Right, it’s because I’m brown,” he said, with an air of defeat. It obviously caught Sarratt by surprise, leading him to pause for an instant before grabbing his pen again.

“Whatever her reasons,” he said, gesturing towards one of his officers to come over, “I can help you. Crowe, get me a B-03.”

Officer Crowe nodded, and returned in a few minutes with a form. Sarratt quickly filled it in and signed it, and then handed it to Isaiah.

“Bax can stamp this for you, you saw where he’s sitting,” he said. “Good luck.”

Isaiah thanked him, and then took the document over to the man in the front row.

“Mr. Bax?” Isaiah said as he reached his desk. The guy was staring at his papers, trying desperately to appear so immersed in his work that he didn’t notice anyone approaching.

“I don’t know if you’d heard,” Isaiah continued, “but I’m conducting an investigation and I’m trying to find people who can provide information about…”

“There’s nothing I can tell you,” Bax said while still staring at his papers.

“Pardon?”

“There’s nothing I can tell you,” he repeated, finally looking up, “because I don’t know anything myself. Please, just let me work,” he said as he stamped and returned Isaiah’s form. There was definitely something the guy wasn’t letting on, but Isaiah didn’t want to push. He’d gotten what he came here for.

After having the document stamped and indulging in some chit-chat with a still-starstruck Marrow at the entry desk, Isaiah stepped out onto the streets with a smile.

He was now authorized, by special permission from the chief of the spiritual division of the Strona police force, to access the city’s public records.