Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed through the apartment.
Sian quietly stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"They came early."
"I'll get it."
He rose from his chair in response to the knock and crossed the apartment at an unhurried pace.
The moment Sian turned the lock and opened the door, his eyes fell upon three men standing outside.
Their black-and-white clothing, round-brimmed hats, and long coats gave them an air of rigidity and coldness.
The man in front stood slightly ahead of the other two, who positioned themselves just behind him, one to his right and the other to his left. Nothing about his face stood out—except his eyes. They were unnaturally still, almost devoid of emotion. The fine lines etched across his features suggested a man in his late thirties, perhaps already just beyond them. Two stars were pinned to his shoulders, while the other two men, who appeared younger, wore a single star each.
The two men behind him were no different. They wore nearly the same emotionless expressions, their features so carefully composed that they almost resembled moving dolls.
He lowered his round-brimmed hat with his left hand, revealing neatly groomed dark hair, smooth and carefully kept. A dry smile touched his lips, as though smiling were a gesture he rarely practiced.
A masculine voice came from the man. It was firm, but not particularly harsh, carrying a restrained warmth beneath its sternness—an unexpected note of courtesy that caught Sian's ear.
"Inspector Edwin Vale. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sian."
"We were told you contacted the children's home this morning."
"We're here regarding the kid."
His gaze drifted past Sian's shoulder and into the apartment.
Without asking permission, he stepped inside, the other two following close behind. Only then did Sian instinctively step aside to let them pass.
The apartment suddenly felt smaller.
The inspector's eyes moved through it once before he headed straight toward the kitchen.
He did not wait to be shown the way.
His pace remained controlled, but his attention was anything but casual. His eyes moved from one room to the next as he passed, searching the corners and doorways for the child he had clearly expected to find.
He reached the kitchen.
No one was there.
The chair stood slightly pulled away from the table, while an empty glass and a closed book rested on its surface.
The moment Beatrice spotted the three men in the kitchen, a low, unfriendly growl rumbled from her throat.
"Where is the kid?" Inspector Edwin asked, a trace of hidden puzzlement in his voice, holding the open book in both hands as his eyes lingered on one of its pages.
Sian stepped into the kitchen just as the question was asked. He looked around as though seeing the empty room for the first time.
Then he sighed quietly.
"I made a mistake."
The inspector turned toward him.
"What kind of mistake?"
"I thought he had no family."
Sian glanced toward the empty chair.
"But he wasn't alone."
For the first time, something shifted across the faces of the two officers behind the inspector.
Not surprise exactly.
Something closer to brief disbelief.
Sian leaned against the kitchen doorway.
"It's an old trick."
The inspector said nothing.
"Street children sometimes pretend to be lost or abandoned to make people feel sorry for them."
He paused.
"Then they take whatever they can get."
"Money?" Edwin closed the book he had been holding and placed it back on the table.
Sian nodded.
"Usually."
"And you believed him?"
"For a while."
The inspector studied him.
"And then?"
Sian gave a small shrug.
"I realized what he was doing."
"He left before I could do anything about it."
The inspector's gaze remained fixed on him.
"You didn't try to stop him?"
"I had no reason to," Sian replied with quiet indifference.
A brief silence followed.
"I see," Inspector Edwin said as he placed his round-brimmed hat back on his head, adjusting it with both hands until it sat properly.
He glanced toward the empty kitchen.
"There are plenty of ways for a person to take advantage of someone's sympathy. You would do well to be more cautious next time."
"I won't fall for the same trick twice," Sian said, his tone unchanged. "You can be at ease on that account."
The inspector nodded.
Then, almost casually, he asked:
"Do you have any idea if anyone has entered the city recently?"
Sian's expression changed slightly.
"Recently?"
"In the last two days." Inspector Edwin looked directly into Sian's eyes.
"I can't possibly know everyone who enters Pendralice, sir," Sian replied calmly, as though stating an obvious fact, a quiet laugh barely escaping his lips.
"A person without proper residence papers," Edwin added, his sharp gaze steady and watchful.
"And you need two men for that?" Sian did not take his eyes off the inspector, while the two younger officers showed the faintest change in their otherwise rigid expressions.
"Some matters require more attention than others. We have reason to believe someone may have entered through the eastern boundary—near Bounderidge, where you're accustomed to hunting."
Edwin's eyes narrowed slightly, a hidden spark flickering in their depths."You should exercise greater caution. Strangers can be dangerous, especially when we don't know who we're dealing with."
"Wasn't your assignment to inspect the matter concerning the child reported to the children's home?" Sian asked, a hint of suspicion carefully concealed beneath his calm tone. The question itself, however, was unmistakable.
Edwin's expression remained unchanged. If anything, the faintest trace of amusement touched his lips.
"It is," he said. "But an inspector's duties don't begin and end with answering calls from institutions."
"We're also expected to look into matters that fall within our jurisdiction—unregistered residents, unfamiliar faces, people who may have entered the city without the proper papers."
His tone remained almost friendly, as though he were explaining something perfectly ordinary.
"It is simply part of the job."
His left hand rose to the brim of his hat. He pressed down gently, shifted it a fraction to one side, then the other, and finally let his hand fall.
Sian studied him for a moment.
"Why?"
"Routine."
The answer came a little too quickly.
"It seems your dog has been somewhat unsettled since we arrived." Edwin finally turned his attention toward Beatrice.
"My apologies, Inspector. She tends to be uneasy around strangers." Sian whistled softly, a familiar signal.
Beatrice immediately responded, her growl fading as she settled down.
"Well, it seems our business here is finished." Edwin straightened his coat. "I'll take care of informing the children's home. There's no need for you to trouble yourself, Mr. Sian."
"Allow me to see you to the door." Sian stepped aside politely, extending one hand toward the way out.
The three men made their way toward the entrance.
Just before stepping outside, Edwin stopped.
He turned his head toward Sian, his pale eyes and composed features unchanged.
"A fine apartment for a man who makes his living selling rabbit hides."
A faint softness touched Sian's expression in response.
"In my experience, people rarely pay for the hide."
"They pay for the rabbit."
"Many prefer the tender meat—especially those foolish enough to believe they can outrun a trap."
For a moment, Edwin simply looked at him.
Then he gave a small nod and adjusted his hat.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I hope you have a pleasant day, Mr. Sian."
Then he left.
Sian closed the door behind them, but did not move.
He could hear the heavy footsteps of all three men fading down the corridor, then descending the stairs.
One step after another.
Until the sound disappeared completely.
Then he returned to the kitchen, where Beatrice was waiting for him.
He looked toward the open kitchen window.
The iron fire escape clung to the outside of the building.
Empty.
She had escaped that way before the officers arrived.
Through the window, he caught sight of the three men leaving the building and disappearing into the street.
A flutter of wings broke the silence.
A crow descended onto the windowsill.
Its ebony feathers gleamed beneath the pale daylight.
It stood perfectly still, its head tilted ever so slightly.
Watching him.
Unblinking.