The phone rang around 10 p.m., startling Simon from a light doze. He turned off the television and picked up the receiver. "Banks," he barked into the phone.
"Captain Simon Banks?" came the voice over the wires, a bit of static crackling over the connection due to the raging snowstorm that had hit Cascade earlier that afternoon.
"Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?"
"My name's Flo McGinty--you might remember me from Thanksgiving. I'm Jim Ellison's neighbor." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I know you'll probably think I'm an old worry-wart, but I've been babysitting little Laurene since last night. . ."
"Last night?" Simon interrupted, surprised.
"Well, yes. You see, the boys wanted to get an early start up in the woods . . . to cut down a Christmas tree, don't you know?" she explained. "Anyway, they should have been back long ago. Young Blair dropped off some milk before they left, and that was 5 a.m. It shouldn't have taken this long, even with the storm. I'm worried about them."
"Thank you, Ms. McGinty, for calling. I'll get busy and start checking around. Don't you worry; we'll find them."
"Oh, I hope so. They're such dears. I wouldn't want anything to happen to either one of them."
"They're very adept at taking care of themselves. I'm sure they're fine," Simon reassured her.
"Okay, then. I just thought somebody ought to know. Good-night."
"Thank you for calling, Ms. McGinty. Good-night." He hung up the phone and sighed. What had those two gotten themselves into now?
He picked up the phone again, dialing emergency services. "Patterson?"
You got me, a voice answered.
"Yeah, this is Simon Banks. I've got a couple of men who haven't checked in since early this morning. They were headed up into the mountains. They could be stranded up there by the storm."
Damn! That's bad news, Simon.
"Why do you say that? Can't you get someone up there to check it out?"
Not in this blizzard. We can't scramble the choppers until the wind dies down and visibility improves. Ground search would be next to impossible in the dark. It's going to have to wait until morning.
"They may not have until morning, dammit." Simon spat into the phone.
Sorry, Cap. There's nothing that can be done until then. I'll put the men on high priority alert. We'll go out at first light. The weather service says the storm should abate sometime after midnight.
Simon released a pent-up sigh. "Okay. All right. Thanks, Patterson. Call me in the morning?"
You bet. I'll keep you up-to-date on the progress of the search. Who're we looking for?
"Jim Ellison and his partner, Blair Sandburg. They were driving a blue and white '69 Ford Ranger, license number 804 GDT, Golf-Delta-Tango. I think they were headed out Highway 10."
Roger that, Simon. I'll be getting back to you.
The phone went dead, and Simon hung it up, staring for a long while at the quiet instrument. "Dammit, Jim. Can't you guys do anything without finding trouble?"
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