The Nobody Girls (Kendra Dillon Cold Case Thriller Book 3)

by Rebecca Rane

  “Um, did you let my Dad check out of the care facility?”

  “Well, since you’re not his legal guardian, I can’t legally tell you what happened. However, I will say, Big Don is a terrible, terrible patient. The issue we checked him in for has improved somewhat, but, well, that’s all I can say right now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kendra took I-75 to the Port Lawrence downtown exit. She had wanted to stop into the office but instead whizzed by and continued on to her Dad’s.

  Kendra cleaned up her scrapped knees as she drove. She wondered if she could just pass the ripped jeans off as the latest fashion. She doubted her dad would notice. Stephanie would notice for sure, but Don? He could care less about her clothes.

  Downtown’s businesses and industrial areas morphed, within a few blocks of the city center, into bungalows and Victorians. Everything from gigantic mansions to tiny cottages filled Port Lawrence’s oldest neighborhoods.

  The sidewalks were lined with mature trees. The homes were all historic, but many of them were in dire need of fixing up. Everything fifth house had boarded windows. There was a completely diverse mix of residents, which kept their families in the neighborhood. That said, it wasn’t really set up for an aging diabetic with one foot. Who now, it appeared, was losing his grip.

  Big Don wasn’t leaving this neighborhood, though, regardless of the upkeep his house required. Kendra could hear him say it.

  Kendra didn’t need to knock. No one did when they came to the Dillon house. Her entire life, friends, assistants, union bosses, city council members, neighbors, and family announced themselves and walked right in. That was her Dad’s way. He wanted people to come in. Her mother, she probably would have liked a little more formality, but Don’s circle and his knack for making a person feel as though they were inside that circle served Stephanie’s political ambitions quite nicely.

  Kendra believed that the open door and the cacophony of sounds and conversation it brought had helped hone her ability to interview just about anyone about anything. A mix of people talking about all types of things was the language of her youth.

  On the flip side, she relished her privacy as an adult. Her condo on the river included her and her cat, and she only got the cat part-time.

  Kendra opened the door, and Big Don was ready to greet her.

  “Good afternoon, daughter dear. I wasn’t expecting a visit from you today.” Big Don’s facial expression indicated that he knew he was stirring up something. There was an amused lift to the corner of his mouth. The world was his mixing bowl, and he controlled the switch to the mixer.

  “You check yourself out of rehab early and don’t expect a visit? What’s that word you like? Oh yea, malarky.”

  “You say rehab like I’ve got a drug problem.”

  “You do. It’s sugar.”

  “Psh.”

  “Are you telling me that your blood work is under control?” Kendra said.

  “Well, actually yes, but we can check it right now. Darleen!”

  “Darleen, who is—” Before Kendra could get the question out, a woman dressed in pink floral nursing scrubs ran from the kitchen and into the sitting room.

  “What can I get you? Are you hungry? Are there too many windows open in here? Should I call to see when the air conditioner man is coming?”

  “Ah, Darleen, this is my betraying, evil, heartless daughter.”

  “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

  “Anyone who forces you into the rehab place with no cause, they are, hmm…well, maybe evil is too strong a word, but they’re on my list. That’s for sure.”

  “Dad, you’re not well yet. We need the weight down and the blood sugar under control.”

  “Darleen?”

  Darleen nodded at Kendra and then scooted around her.

  Big Don put his index finger in the air, keeping his eyes locked on Kendra’s, while Darleen produced a testing kit. She extracted the droplet. She smiled at Kendra and Big Don. “Be right back!”

  Kendra put her hands on her hips.

  “I’m not happy with you or your sister, but you’re the one who pulled the River Park stunt on me.”

  “Dad, it wasn’t a stunt. I had to get you healthy. But I realize I can’t do that for you. You have to take your diet seriously to start with and regularly check your blood sugar.”

  “Well, that’s why Darleen and I are a match made in rehab. She likes checking my blood, and I like being in my own house.”

  Darleen returned with a bright clap. Kendra flinched.

  “We’re on the right track. He’s only slightly elevated, at 175.”

  “Thanks, love.” Big Don looked at Kendra as he said it.

  “Well, that’s good then. I’m glad to hear that.” Maybe this was okay. Maybe her dad had been just scared enough to finally take his health more seriously.

  “Oh, I thought you might want to know, Darleen and I are in love. And I’m going to be marrying her as soon as I’m able to.”

  Darleen laughed. “Oh, my, I better get to the kitchen, I’ve got a casserole in the oven for later, and I don’t want it to burn! It was so sweet to meet you, Kendra.”

  “You too, Darleen.”

  Darleen scurried out of the room.

  “Dad, what is going on here?”

  “I just told you, I’ve fallen in love with the Heath Aid Darleen, and we’re to be wed as soon as possible.”

  Kendra felt a dull headache begin behind her eyebrows. She used her fingers to apply opposing pressure.

  It felt very much like her father was baiting her into an argument. He was laying down a gauntlet and had shown her that he would not be contained in a hospital or a rehab place. He’d found a way out, even if it required him to manipulate the sweet, docile, and likely unsuspecting, Darleen.

  “Dad, you know that you’re not divorced, right? Are you having another episode?”

  “Is there something else you needed here? Because Darleen and I have plans.”

  “No, no, I’m good. I raced over here because I heard you jail broke yourself out of River Park.”

  “Hardly, they saw that I have learned the wisdom of eating roughage and have fallen in love with a good woman. Keep up, Kendy. This also solves my Pam conundrum.”

  “What?”

  “She was in cahoots with you and helped me get committed.”

  “Pam isn’t in cahoots, and you better not fire her.”

  “I’m mulling that over, but you’re both on my list. And your sister too,” Big Don said.

  “Whatever, fine. You’ve fully communicated that we’re on your list. That said, your numbers are not terrifying.”

  “Exactly, thanks to Darleen’s skillful ministrations.” Kendra tried not to wince. Instead she focused on the fact that her dad was better. He wasn’t falling down or raving about things that might or might not be in the attic. Darleen, it appeared, was in charge of his care and feeding, for now. That was good, because Kendra was knee deep in work, something that everyone in her family could understand.

  “I guess you’re okay then, for now. You see I’m in a bit of a rush, work stuff.”

  “No problem, consider this our Tuesday dinner.”

  “Fine. We’ll talk more about this, uh, marrying Darleen thing later.”

  “With that bratty attitude, I’ll be hard-pressed to let you be a flower girl.”

  “Psh.” Kendra was now beyond actual words at her father’s antics.

  “Good day, dear daughter,” Big Don said.

  Kendra put her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his head. She took a deep breath, and as she turned to walk out the door, she heard her dad bellowing for Darleen.

  Big Don’s blood sugar was okay, there was an in-home caregiver watching over him, and he was, for now, coherent, if not reasonable.

  Short of moving back home herself, she didn’t know what more she could do. Big Don had maneuvered himself out of River Park Rehab facility.

  Well played, Big Don,
well played.

  He was as healthy as he could be and cared for. Kendra decided that for now, that was all she could manage.

  Chapter 15

  Kendra returned to the office. Her Dad’s ploy, while nuts, had helped her forget that she’d had a fruitless day in the field.

  The podcast was essentially in a holding pattern. They had aired an episode about Linda Kay and had the one ready about Sincere, but then they’d hit a brick wall.

  The brick wall was made of time. Perhaps too much time had passed to tell the victim’s stories accurately and compellingly.

  The body of who they believed was the fourth victim, found in Kentucky, Susan Hodge, was still just a name. They hadn’t found additional news coverage on her, or a family, or frustratingly, anything.

  Shoop had been spending her time trying to find more while Kendra had been out retracing Sincere’s steps and dealing with Big Don.

  Kendra was mulling, and Shoop was digging when Kendra’s phone buzzed. It was a number she didn’t recognize.

  “Kendra Dillon,” she answered.

  “Special Agent Sylvia Price. You requested a few files from our archives, murders in the late ‘70s?”

  Aha! Finally, a response from the FOIA requests.

  “Yes, yes, I’m doing some profiles on the victims. And I’d need to see case files, see where the investigation wound up, that kind of thing. Find out where it all stands.”

  Kendra believed they had pinpointed four victims, but only three were old cases. The fourth was the one that had started her down this path, the woman found at High Timbers. That was still in the hands of BCI. Just like the local news stations were, she was waiting on word on that one. The rest, well, whatever was known, was locked up at the FBI.

  “Yes, I see you requested three from the archives.”

  “Yes, on Sincere Anderson, Linda Kay Ellis, and Susan Hodges.”

  “I’ve fulfilled that document request, but well, there’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Yes, in the years 1978 to 1982, there were likely other victims that matched in several key ways.”

  Kendra was shocked. She waived at Shoop to come into her office as she continued the conversation.

  “How many other victims?”

  “We have eight, with several characteristics that indicate they were the same perpetrator, over that time period.”

  “I need the files, and we need to interview you, on the record, for The Cold Trail podcast.”

  “I figured as much when the request crossed my desk. I wanted to be sure that we had a complete picture for you. The original agent on this case, he passed way long before I or any of us in this field office got here. There was a bit of research that we had to do to make sure we had the right information for you.”

  “I appreciate that. Are you authorized to speak on the record? We’d need an interview, officially, for the podcast.”

  “Yes, I’ve familiarized myself with the case files and am authorized to provide you with the official statements. When do you need this?”

  “Does tomorrow work?”

  “I, uh, let me check.” Ad Kendra waited. She put eight fingers up. Shoop’s eyes widened. “Okay, Ms. Dillon, I’m available tomorrow morning. Where did you want to meet?”

  “Can you come here, to the WPLE studios? That way, we can get the best quality audio and all that.”

  “Yes, I’m in a morning meeting but could make myself available at 10 a.m. Does that work?”

  “Perfect, see you then.”

  They ended the call.

  “Well, eight, what in the actual heck?” Shoop exclaimed.

  “Our number just doubled.”

  Kendra was shocked by the information Agent Price had conveyed.

  Tomorrow, the floodgates in this cold case would be opened to them.

  Kendra planned to be ready.

  Kendra reread all her notes. She was ready as she could be to interview the FBI on what sounded like a killing spree that had been hidden for longer than she’d been alive.

  The receptionist for the station, Sharon Holcomb, buzzed Shoop when Special Agent Sylvia Price arrived.

  Shoop brought her to the studio, where Kendra was waiting.

  Agent Price was impressive, to say the least. She wore a black pants suit with pressed pleats that looked sharp as armor. A cornflower blue collared blouse was tightly tucked into her slacks, and she was wrinkle-free from her forehead to her pumps.

  She wore a chin-length blond razor-cut bob haircut. She was chic, imposing, no-nonsense, and beautiful.

  A lot about her reminded Kendra of her sister Gillian. There was a no quarter asked, no quarter given demeanor required of high-level female law officers. They had to have every aspect of their exterior on lock so they could get to the point of their jobs: Fighting the bad guys and the patriarchy from within it!

  Kendra shook Agent Pierce’s hand. “Please, have a seat. We’ll begin right away. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  Agent Price nodded, and they arranged themselves across from one another, microphones covered in foam to minimize the sound of popping “p”s were lowered in front of both of them.

  “Lean into the mic and just use your regular speaking voice.” Kendra looked over at Miles, and he gave her the thumbs up. “Let’s begin. Can you let our listeners know your official title at the FBI?”

  “Special Agent Sylvia Price, Port Lawrence FBI Field Office.”

  “What can you tell us about the Linda Kay Ellis case?”

  “The body of Linda Kay Ellis was found in 1978. It was clear immediately to the citizens that found her and to all law enforcement that she’d been the victim of foul play. Her body was wrapped in a garbage back and secured with masking tape. Initial investigators observed that she’d been beaten and likely strangled. She’d also been sexually assaulted. Her blue jeans were wrapped tightly around her neck. Though the autopsy revealed, she was strangled by hands, not the fabric. She was last seen at a diesel gas service station off I-75, just outside of Port Lawrence, but there were no witness reports of her getting in a vehicle or talking to a specific suspect.”

  “What did the FBI know about her life or activities before her murder?”

  “Agents learned she was a sex worker, that she frequented several truck stops and restaurants, and likely her work funded a significant drug addiction.”

  This all tracked with what Kendra had learned.

  “You’ll see we included all her files.” Agent Pierce put an accordion-style folder on the low table between them. Kendra picked it up and gently thumbed through it.

  “Are there suspects in here who were interviewed?”

  “Dozens of people were interviewed. They’re all in there, as you’ll see. And more was done after the discovery of Margo Kasinski.”

  This was a name Kendra hadn’t heard, and she and Shoop locked eyes.

  “Kasinski was also found near I-75, 11 months later,” Agent Price continued. “She was discovered in a culvert that had filled with water, so physical evidence was significantly degraded. But at that point, investigators from that era of time suspected a killer was using the upper half of I-75, rest stops and restaurants in particular, as a hunting and dumping ground.”

  Kendra let that statement hang in the air. She opened the file and discovered Sincere’s file, Linda Kay’s, and Margo’s. Along with five more.

  “How many women do you believe were victims of this killer?”

  “Eight victims fit the profile in at least three aspects.”

  Kendra gasped. It was a shocking number.

  “Why wasn’t this in the papers?” Kendra asked. “Why didn’t authorities or the FBI warn the public that there was a serial killer stalking women on I-75?”

  “I cannot answer for the protocols in place at the time. After you examine the files we’ve provided under the Freedom of Information Act, you will see that the victims were discovered years apart, over a wide time span, and in vastly disparate jurisdic
tions. This could be why no one branded a single perpetrator or connected the deaths in the media.”

  “And also, the women, they were disposable, weren’t they?”

  It wasn’t an accusation, Agent Price wasn’t responsible for that, but it was a truth.

  “You are correct in the sense that in every case, the women weren’t reported missing. No one had called authorities prior to the discovery of their bodies.”

  “Have you ever heard of the term ‘The Nobody Girls’?”

  “I had not heard that term until you mentioned it on your broadcast.”

  Agent Sylvia Price wasn’t trying to connect with listeners or become friends. She was all business. But Kendra saw her stiffen at the mention of the term.

  “What do you think of that term?”

  It wasn’t specifically a question about the investigation. Kendra was after the agent’s personal opinion.

  “It is terrible. And never used at The Bureau. The FBI has no connection or responsibility to what water cooler phases were used before most of the agents in the Port Lawrence office had even been born.”

  This was as much of an admission as Kendra was going to get. Plus, she didn’t want to make an enemy of Agent Price. She wanted her help. Kendra moved on. There were more questions, twice as many, now that the file was in her hands.

  “Is the person who did this still out there?”

  “The FBI believes with a high degree of certainty that the man responsible for these murders, eight in all, is in prison and will remain there for the rest of his life.”

  Kendra made a conscious effort not to let her jaw drop open. They had the guy?

  “Was he charged with the murders?”

  “No, we do not have a confession, but the evidence gathered points strongly to the conclusion that Ned Wayne Ewald committed the crimes.”

  As much as Kendra had prepared for the interview, had listed questions to ask the agent, and follow-ups to pursue, this bombshell was not on her list.

  “What is, uh, Ned Wayne Ewald in prison for?”

  “He is incarcerated at the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility serving a life sentence for aggravated murder and sexual battery.”