Ziegler and Bayer drove out of Tournai, down the dirt road that crossed the stream and went into France. They stopped at the farmhouse closest to the city, still several kilometers from the border, and got out of the car.
“It looks deserted,” Ziegler said as they walked up to the entrance.
Bayer knocked on the door. They waited a moment. When no one answered, he knocked harder.
Ziegler walked to the side of the house, scanned the property, and continued around the back. The barn doors were closed, no livestock was visible. He saw no vehicles, although a tractor was likely in the barn.
When he returned, Bayer was still on the porch. “Should I break down the door?”
Ziegler shook his head. “No,” he replied. “If they’re not here now, they weren’t here for the fighting.”
“Let’s check the
