Sarah's case had a minimal amount of information to go off on.
Wilfred isn't stupid – just because he didn't pry too much into Sarah's resent didn't mean he was stepping into this case with only his sorry-excuse for a brain and gut instinct, which was proven wrong about the existence of ghosts merely a week ago and is still recovering.
Despite not prying, he managed to claw out a bit of relevant information on the case, such as the approximate time and location. She did say that she was killed somewhere around January last year and somewhere in the city, which, albeit, is a vague term, but it was something he could lead off with.
But it wasn't enough to solve a murder case.
He couldn't spend all day interrogating her as well.
Sometimes she refused to answer or just said she couldn't recall.
'Maybe all ghosts couldn't recall the events leading directly to their death,' he concluded to himself with an uncertain nod, 'I wish someone could guide me here.'
He spent almost all day with Sarah, irritated at her comments and actions yet finding her company extremely comforting.
But now, Sarah was at home. He was at work.
Work almost slipped his mind.
On the first day back to work after picking up the dainty little gift of seeing spirits, he was extremely sleep deprived and mentally drained. He recalled his eyes shooting open as he frantically glanced in both directions but let out a sigh of relief once spotting the cat poster in his cubicle. He was at work but didn't recall how he got there. He focused on catching his breath for a few moments and attempted to focus on the computer in front of him. Squinting his eyes, he placed his glasses upright and realized instantly that he had fallen asleep on his keyboard, which had pressed on the letter 'a' and occasionally a few others - his document consisted of a few pages of it.
As you can see, sleep deprivation and an office job mix like oil and water.
Wilfred had to avoid staying up on weekdays due to the necessity of keeping his god-awful, underpaid job. This gave him a minimal amount of time to work on the case, which is why he used the godsent app – Google.
He had spent a few days looking through missing-persons articles as well as crimes occurring in the entire city since there had to be a trace of Sarah Brown. But he realized that 'Sarah Brown' was a surprisingly common name, finding different variants of Sarah that wasn't the one he needed.
Begrudgingly, he went to the second page of the Google search results. When a person goes to the second page, they are deemed as a desperate individual who may want connections to the black market, but Wilfred was a desperate individual at this moment, and if the black market had information, he may be willing to sell one of his kidneys.
His urgency pressed him to look at the website of the local police department one more time.
The country-wide missing persons notices were an unsurprising large amount, and he couldn't filter by town either – Sarah could have been kidnapped anywhere as well as killed somewhere else. It wasn't a smart idea to eliminate factors for no reason.
As well as that, her case went cold.
If someone goes missing for over a year, of course they'd assume the child was dead or gone for good. They'd keep a poster up and the occasional search party, but what more could they do?
With that, they never published the important information due to confidentiality.
He had nothing to use.
After a few minutes of searching, he took his glasses off to rub his temples, a way to soothe the sudden tidal wave of migraines that toppled his mental fortitude.
Soft humming of computers as well as distant chatter managed to distract Wilfred from his headache, eventually causing his brows to loosen from its initial knotted position and his frown to tug upwards to a neutral expression.
"Oi, Wilfred." A voice roused him from his content relaxation, startling him and making him sit up rigidly.
He glanced upwards to another employee who poked her head over his cubicle from her one beside his.
"Hm? What… what's up? He attempted to act nonchalant, as if he hadn't been caught not doing work for the past hour-or-so, propping his elbow up and attempting to grin slightly.
"Quittin' time." She nodded knowingly towards the office clock at the corner above the water filter, causing Wilfred to sigh in relief.
He realized half of his colleagues had cleared out and he was merely laying there. He switched off the computer in his cubicle and grabbed his coat, waving goodbye to the lady who woke him up and scrambling to the elevator.
Solemnly, he began his trudge back to his apartment, tiredly rubbing his eyes and attempting to wipe his glasses on his blazer, which he generally wears to work as a form of being 'formal' and 'professional' according to his mother who purchased it for him. He groaned slightly when he realized that it didn't wipe his glasses properly, so he just placed it on and let the cold January breeze brush past him and fog it up.
Although his headache had long since passed, he decided to take the long route back home – it was a little past 5pm, meaning that most 9-5 job employees had cleared out onto the bustling streets, and he didn't want to get caught up in the crowd.
Strolling down the desolate street, his eyes glazed over the fences of a private property that he had seen quite often when taking the long way home. It was rather beautiful due to the lake centred amongst a canopy of trees, the sunset managing to stream in through the slits of leaves as if blessed by the heavens.
Sighing wistfully at the sight, Wilfred felt immense relief as well as a lack of guilt. Guilt had clawed at him all week due to being unable to figure out how to solve Sarah's case, yet this sight gave him a slight tinge of hope, as if there were good things about to occur.
Maybe God was willing to help him.
Extremely overjoyed at that sight, he decided to sit down for a few moments on a nearby bench that leant against the fence, as if it were a part of the property.
But as soon as he sat down and shut his eyes, a swirl of colours threw his mind into a whirlpool.
The sun was no longer visible.
Where was he?
Falling.
He was falling.
Gasping for air. Was he in the air?
No, the air didn't have bubbles, did it?
Underwater!
He was drowning?
He gasped urgently, pulling at his neck and feeling the water enter his lungs. Glancing at his hands, he realized they were dainty and lady-like, wrinkles layering it from the water enveloping him. Hair was in front of him. It couldn't possibly be his, he didn't have long hair. But it strayed from the roots of his scalp.
"Wilfred..."
Despite falling into the depths of the unknowing lake, he was more concerned of his physical state. His eyes tried to catch the layers of light from the waves above him, pulling his hands and kicking his legs to try reach it but to no avail.
"Wilfred?"
He just kept sinking further and further until the light slowly faded away. He took one last gasp for air, bubbles escaping his mouth and filling it with more water. His chest burned. His arms and legs stopped flailing in a fruitless attempt to swim upwards since his energy was as good as gone. His eyes slowly lowered, catching one last glimpse of light before it shut.
"Wilfred!"
His eyes shot open, and he was struck by a blaring light, fear washing over him like a tide as his breathing quickened from unfamiliarity.
Fervently, his hands touched everything around him in an attempt to ground him.
The wood of the bench.
The material of his blazer.
The tears on his cheeks.
Pausing to take a sharp breath in, he looked upwards only to squint at the sunlight streaking across the pavement and onto his face.
Despite the irritation of looking at the sun, he let out a breath of relief upon seeing it.
"Wilfred!"
Whirling his head to the right, he spotted Sarah, head leant forward to examine his tear-stricken face with utter bafflement. She had her arms crossed yet her eyebrows were furrowed together so that her hollow eyes showed some concern. She seemed far more.. transparent than usual yet with Wilfred's muddled state of mind, he couldn't focus on that.
"Why… why are you crying?" She murmured, her voice unusually low and devoid of it's regular mockery.
Unable to catch his breath to speak, Wilfred only buried his head in his palms, feeling the sweat on his forehead mingle with his tears to create an unnervingly disgusting mixture.
"I… I had a weird vision." He hoarsely muttered after a few moments, his voice small yet reaching Sarah due to the lack of cars buzzing down the streets.
Wilfred was in a state with dishevelled hazelnut hair that was deeply greasy as if he hadn't had a decent shower in days - which he would verify since Sarah lacked the ability to smell - as well as dark, raccoon-like bags beneath his eyes. His honey-comb eyes were bloodshot and kept lowering, constantly drooping as if he was on the verge of falling into a state of slumber. Sarah pressed her lips together and hesitated.
"A… a vision? Was it… a nightmare of any kind?" She questioned, peering down at the seated man.
"Just a bad vision..." He looped under his breath, constantly repeating it for moments until it began to irritate Sarah, yet she refused to mention it since Wilfred looked so tired.
"What kind of vision?"
"Of a woman." He managed to choke out.
"A woman…" She drawled on, raising her eyebrows slightly, "Was she pretty?"
"S-she was dying." He stuttered, rubbing his eyebrows together to ease his headache and somewhat keep his eyes open. Sarah made her mouth into a shape of an 'o' in surprise, shaking her head for reading the situation wrong. She'd usually lighten the mood when Wilfred got too glum looking through murder cases, and he'd chuckle at the least.
This time seemed to be too.. serious to even attempt to lighten.
She bit her tongue and was somewhat glad that she didn't feel pain because that would've resulted in excruciating pain.
"She was drowning. I saw someone push he... push her in." He gulped, attempting to not slur his words, "And it feels so real."
Sarah narrowed her hollow eyes and knotted her eyebrows together.
"What feels real? It's just a hallucination… you've been busy this week, so maybe it's just sleep depriva-"
"It wasn't!" He interrupted before fumbling with his hands, "I-I mean it was a dream... but I... I felt it, Sarah."
"Felt what?" Sarah pressed on despite the clawing fear inside her, since Wilfred looked paranoid, with wide eyes grasping a tale he could barely stumble out.
"Drowning." He whispered.
"What?"
"It felt like I was drowning... I-I felt the water fill her lungs and saw the blood leave the body," He paused, "And then I wake up. My head still hurts and it's hard to breath, but I didn't drown. No water. But I recall what it felt like."
Wilfred began to murmur lightly to himself, cradling his head and trying to make sense of his vision as if he were still drowning. Noticing that a few people were walking past and sending the panicked man a weird look, Sarah glowered.
"We need to go." She sighed, "People will think you're crazy."
"I feel like I'm going crazy," He responded hesitantly.
Despite his hesitance, he stood up and followed Sarah who took the lead.
"I'm sorry, kid."
"What?" She said, slightly taken aback shown by her stumble of steps, "Why're you apologising to me?"
"I… I searched all week… I couldn't find a single thing on the case that you haven't told me.." He paused to take in a shaky breath, "And… and then this happens."
He forced a toothy grin whilst placing his glasses back on, blinking profusely as a way of getting used to his heightened vision. A headache emerged again but all he was focused on was a smudge on his lenses.
"This would probably… hinder the case too… I'm sorry I-I promised to help, and I'll hold up my end of the bargain."
Silence ensued from in front of him, making him slightly anxious.
Would she grow resentful towards him for not helping?
"I don't care." She stated firmly, her back to Wilfred which made him unable to see her expression. His face tilted downwards with an obvious frown.
"Sarah, weren't you… weren't you in a rush to figure it out? Won't you be… sad?"
She broke out into a sloppy grin, her animated features looking vibrant as her prior serious persona disappeared.
"I don't feel anything at all." She joked, attempting to prove her point by shoving her hand through the bricks of a nearby building, immediately slipping straight through. He sent her a soft smile from behind.
"Maybe my head's just getting used to all this 'ghost stuff'," He joked while chuckling weakly as Sarah furrowed her eyebrows together, shaking her head.
An orange hue filled their vision as they entered the bustling streets of the town where Wilfred's apartment was. Staring at his feet, he aimlessly followed the light blue hue of the ghost, which eventually darkened into her normal shade of blue the closer they got to the city centre.
The city centre?
Steps faltering, he glanced back.
"Sarah, we passed the apartment."
"I know."
He pursed his lips for a few moments and ran up ahead to trot beside her, peering over to see her neutral expression.
"Where are we going?"
She heaved a long sigh as if Wilfred just asked the most ignorant question in the world.
"You were ranting on about how you didn't hold your end of the bargain." She glanced at him with her trademark smirk, "But what about my end?"
Admittedly, Wilfred had completely forgotten that the agreement went both ways. He joyfully skipped around for a few days at the mere prospect of solving a murder case, but he never considered the other aspect of the bargain, which was to find information on why Wilfred could see ghosts and how he could get rid of it.
"You… you found information?"
"Well… I heard a buzz around, followed it up." She answered vaguely and rubbed the nape of her neck, "I found another person who could see ghosts."
More people could see them? He wasn't alone? He did believe in ghosts; it would be stupid not to since he could practically see them. But at certain moments, he'd feel conflicted as to whether this was all some strange, lucid dream. But then Sarah would say something so ignorant and blissful that he had to believe she wasn't part of his imagination since she was so wild and strange.
He could never create that thought.