"Finally…"
Ending the nervous tapping against the back door of the communications van he'd been keeping up for the past five minutes, DeWitt reached for the vehicles' radio receiver, as he shared an ominous glance with Ed.
"Jimmy, you said it's the same frequency we normally use, right?"
Jimmy Desco, the curly-haired genius of a communications technician nodded nervously, having operated like a bug under a microscope since they arrived at the farm house.
"Let's hope they're in the vicinity of the radio…", Ed mumbled and pulled the collar of his dark brown leather coat higher up against his neck to ward off the bone-chilling cold.
Roy nodded in agreement and looked around the glum-faced crowd of people surrounding the back-end of the comm van, before moving the receiver closer to his mouth.
"Inspectors 8-1, this is DeWitt…come in please."
A tense silence surrounded the group and Roy felt his hand beginning to tremble.
"Inspectors 8-1, do you read? Mike, Stephen, come in, guys…"
Feeling the lump in his throat grow in size, DeWitt let his head drop to his chest, exhaling slowly; as his mind searched for answers to the questions he feared asking.
"The radio might have gotten damaged during the crash or they're out of reach by now."
Ed's calming words did little to assuage his worst fears so early that morning. Scratching his chin, as he assigned priorities to his action plan, DeWitt let out a painful sigh.
"It's just as possible that whoever chased them caught up with them. That they're too injured to answer. Or worse…Tony, get me headquarters on the line. Mike said Jeanie is coming into town this morning. Somebody needs to be at the bus depot waiting for her. Then let's split up and start looking for them. Ed, Andy and Roy, you guys stay with my group. We're going to take the dead-end route. Let's hope we find them soon. My men have been on their own for far too long in this damn case."