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why. Maybe it’s because half the force is corrupt, and the other half is incompetent.
Kody sighed inwardly, pushing the bitter thought aside. It wasn’t
that
bad. But it was getting harder and harder to be optimistic about the Kennian Metropolitan Police, and working with Lenoir wasn’t exactly a morale booster.
    “Whatever the reason, Sergeant, I do not want a repeat of yesterday’s incident. Unless someone can provide us a motive, or at least a solid lead, it is virtually certain that we will never find this child’s body. The crime scene is far too old, and the trail will have gone cold long since. So do not be too hopeful.”
    God forbid anyone should be hopeful, Inspector.
    Their horses crested a hill in the road, and the shambling outline of North Haven rose from the earth like a corpse from its grave. It slumped and careened at all angles, its crude construction slowly yielding to the ravages of the relentless Braelish winters. As they got closer, the impression of decay and neglect only grew stronger. Crumbling, desiccated mud walls propped up thatch roofs scabbed over with moss, the dwellings separated from one another by desultory little fences of woven sticks. The main road remained dry and hard-packed beneath their horses’ hooves, a sign that it rarely saw wagon traffic. That didn’t surprise Kody. North Haven was barely larger than Brackensvale, and every bit as provincial.
    Maybe that explained the mistrustful stares of the townspeople they came across. As they rode down the main street, people turned to gaze up at them, their expressions dark and forbidding. Crowds stopped talking as they passed. A mangy-looking dog scampered out from a nearby yard and followed them for a while, barking loudly and nipping at the heels of the horses until Kody threw a crab apple at it, sending it slinking off into the trees. In all, it wasn’t the warmest of welcomes.
    “This is why city folk never leave Kennian,” Kody said under his breath. “You’d think we were an occupying army, the way these people act. What’s their problem, anyway?”
    “You have answered your own question, Sergeant. City folk almost never set foot in the villages, and when they do, it does not tend to be good news.”
    “Bit of a chicken-and-egg thing, isn’t it?” Kody said, eying a blacksmith warily. The man had stopped working as they drew near, and there was something vaguely threatening in the way he held his heavy iron hammer.
    Lenoir smirked. “Perhaps you should explain that to them. I’m sure they would appreciate your insight.”
    The constable met them in the village green. He looked nervous.
And so he should,
Kody thought disapprovingly. A felony had gone unreported, which meant that the constable was derelict in his duty. He was supposed to report weekly to the Metropolitan Police—or immediately, if the crime was serious. Lenoir had said that a few weeks had already gone by since the local boy’s body was stolen. Either the constable hadn’t known about it, or he had failed to report it. Neither possibility reflected well on him.
    “Good morning, Inspector,” Constable Brier said wanly, taking the bridle of Lenoir’s horse. “Your message was cryptic, and a bit sudden too. The messenger left not two hours ago—I haven’t had time to learn much.”
    “The message contained all the relevant information, Constable,” said Lenoir. “We are here to investigate a crime that should have been reported—when? How long since the boy’s body was stolen?”
    Brier’s barely restrained nervousness tumbled out of him now. “I heard nothing of it, Inspector! Your message took me completely by surprise!”
    Lenoir raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? That is disturbing, Constable, since I am told the entire village talks of the matter.”
    Brier turned a deep crimson. He opened his mouth, but apparently he didn’t know what to say, because he closed it again.
    “Let us get started, then,” said Lenoir, and Brier nodded