<br><br><center>*What is Man? A miserable little pile of secrets.*
― André Malraux</center>




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<br><br> Lily, my fiance, had disappeared without a trace and I was left with no recourse  but to return to Nate Watkin's farm in search of her.

Despite the threatening warning signs posted everywhere on the property I knew there was a chance Lily might have strayed onto the farm and possibly had a fall and was lying injured somewhere.

It was a long shot but the only possibility I could explore.


<br><br>I parked near Nate's front door, but before I could exit the car two menacing German shepherd dogs surrounded the vehicle. I sat helplessly watching them bare their teeth and bark incessantly.

Suddenly, a whistle sounded and the two dogs lay down on the ground and went silent. A morose young man in his early twenties emerged from the barn and walked toward me. He stopped about ten feet from the car and called out, “What’s your business?”

<br><br>“I’m from the Warner farm, ” I called out cheerily. “Your neighbour, Lily Warner, has gone missing. I’m her fiancé and her father and I are canvassing the area trying to see if anyone saw her or knows her whereabouts.”

The young man shook his head. “She didn’t come here—at least not down this laneway. If she snuck in the other way, I don’t know nothin’ about that—but my dogs are loose to keep hunters away.”

I shuddered at the thought of Lily being mauled by the dogs.

<br><br>“Do you mind if I take a look around your property? She might have gotten turned around and lost in the night or in yesterday’s storm.”

“I do mind. This here’s private property and if she trespassed that’s her fault. There’s plenty of signs. But I’ll take my ATV out later and drive round and check. Leave your number with me and if she turns up, I’ll give you a shout—but I’m hoping I don’t have to do that.”

He looked at his dogs and then back at me. My stomach turned. I gave him my business card with my cell number. As I drove away I glanced in my rear view and saw him disdainfully flick the card away.

<br><br>When I got back to the farm, Frank was back and looked worried.

“Any luck?” he asked.

I shook my head. “How about you?”

“I’m real concerned, Martin. One of Lily’s friends was passing our farm yesterday and saw Lily talking to someone in a battered green pick up truck.”

“Do you know anyone in the area that drives a truck like that?”

Frank nodded. “Bill Watkins—he used to own a rusty old Chevy Silverado—it was a dark Jade green colour. I expect Nate drives it now.”

<br><br>Within the hour we were back at Nate’s farm with the police. The sergeant was well aware of Nate—but all he would tell us was that Nate was known to the local police.

The sergeant was stern with him:

“You’d best co-operate, Nate, and let us look around—otherwise we’ll be back with a warrant and tear the place apart.”

Nate was defiant. “Search the place—what do I care? You won’t find nuthin.”

The police searched the house and all the outbuildings without finding a trace of Lily. Nate sat minding his dogs, a smirk plastered across his face.

<br><br><center>© 2020, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

<br><br><center>[ Photo]( https://images.app.goo.gl/CSMUENxr6SeZRw7g7 ) </center>
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