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

by Rebecca Rane

  “I see.” Kendra wasn’t sure if she did. Was Fairly nuts? She let him continue.

  “So, I walked out there, it took longer than I thought, and it was a bitch, walking over rows of corn stalk nubs, you ever try it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I got about ten feet from it, and that’s when I knew. I still hadn’t seen the worse, but I knew, I felt the worse, I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That there was a dead girl in there. That a body was wrapped in that garbage bag. And I knew that something had killed it. It wasn’t an animal or something like that. Or a suicide. Violence has an energy, and I felt that energy all around.”

  Charlie Fairly had a flair for the dramatic, Kendra decided. She didn’t want to think about the dark energy that might swirl and linger in the wake of a violent act. Did it hover around her? Would it always? The idea raised goose flesh on her arm, even in the humid Kentucky kitchen.

  “What did you do?”

  “I walked closer. I got to about an arm’s length. Then a piece of the garbage bag separated, and the ripping sound scared the hell out of me, and then it floated in the air around me. It was like a little bag demon.”

  Kendra felt unsettled. She clearly remembered the garbage back that loosely wrapped the remains at the High Timbers site.

  Fairly continued to remember the awful moment. “Other garbage floated out as that bag flapped loose, snack wrappers and stuff. It was like if the bottom ripped out of the bag on the way to the curb. The body was just one of the things that were thrown out. That freaked me out too.”

  “And then?”

  “I jumped back and decided it was best to stay an arm’s length away, in case, I don’t know. Just in case.”

  “Did you think she was going to grab you?”

  “I don’t know. But the wind was howling, and the sky was getting darker. There weren’t cell phones then. People forget that too. No cell phone, no car phone, no pay phone out there on the highway. The walk from my car to that spot was farther than I thought it was, and running back, if something happened, well, it was a long run. Then some of the garbage blew into my face. I mean, I was totally spooked by an empty bag of Doritos or whatever. It grazed my cheek. The idea that it was touching that dead body, and then me, well, dead skin, then my skin. I’m not going to lie. That was extra freak out.”

  Kendra didn’t judge Fairly; it was an awful scene. She’d looked at the crime scene photos from 1980. She let him continue and tried to put a clamp on her own fears. He’d done an excellent job conveying his horror and spreading the freak out to her.

  “I looked again, closer, and the face was partly visible. So there this face was, battered, dead, and not evil, but afraid, still. I turned and ran back to the station and called the police.”

  After that, Kendra did know what happened. In cold official, FBI jargon.

  Chuck Fairly, the weight station attendant, had found Jane Doe Two, still no name, after all this time.

  Her bra had been wrapped around her neck by her murderer.

  Her body had been discarded, like garbage, with garbage.

  And her name remained a mystery.

  Chapter 17

  Kendra spent the night at a hotel in Cincinnati. She checked out early, after a fitful night of sleep.

  She wanted to make a quick stop in her condo. She planned to drop some things off and then meet Shoop back at WPLE. They’d have a lot to sort through with her new interviews.

  Kendra found her mother waiting for her in the hallway outside her condo. This was bad. Stephanie Dillon didn’t wait. People waited for her. Had she forgotten some brunch she was supposed to attend?

  “Mom, to what do I owe this surprise visit?”

  “Let’s get inside. I do not want my personal business conducted in the hallway for anyone to see.”

  Kendra agreed that, yes, they should get inside. But it’s not like the paparazzi sat outside her door waiting for a Stephanie Dillon sighting.

  She unlocked the door, and they stepped in.

  “Oh, good, the painting I sent arrived. Now you just need to get it hung. It will help make this place look less like a model unit and more like a home of an adult person with a nationally famous groundbreaking podcast.”

  “Thanks for the painting, Mom. I just haven’t had time.”

  “I’ll send Johnathan over; he can hang it. You always hang your artwork too high. It looks tacky.”

  “I can hang it.”

  “Well, then why haven’t you? Terrance Delors is an up-and-coming artist. Not only will this make your space more beautiful, but this is also an investment. Its value will only go up.”

  “Okay, yes. Mom, is that why you’re here? To check up on my artwork?”

  “No, but it’s good I came, now I know not only do I have to select the décor for this place, but I also have to properly install it and stage it. Scott is so good at that. You really should reconsider that relationship. He was the perfect complement to your, uh, more college-level aesthetic.”

  “Mom.”

  “Fine, fine, I’m here because of your father.”

  “Is he okay? I thought his blood sugar was under control. Ugh, I’ll call and check to be sure his—”

  “It’s not that. It’s this woman, this slut, that has moved into my house.”

  “It’s hardly your house. You live in Columbus.”

  “I do that for work. My home, as you know, will always be on Pearl Street.”

  “What do you expect me to do about this?”

  “He listens to you. Tell him he looks ridiculous, cavorting around with a younger woman.”

  “Mom, Darleen isn’t a younger woman.”

  “She’s in her forties. She probably worked at that place like a vulture, circling, circling until an unsuspecting codger comes in, and she swoops.”

  “Dad isn’t a codger.”

  Kendra immediately realized she hadn’t delivered that statement with much force. Her dad was erratic before they got him to the hospital. He’d been wiley and calculating when made the break from the rehab facility, but still, Stephanie was right, Don was off the rails.

  “He’s acting like a fool, and I won’t have it. It puts us all in a bad light.”

  “A-ha, there we go! You’re afraid his new, uh, girlfriend makes you look bad.”

  “Me? How about you and your sister too? People are snickering behind his back, behind your back, I’m quite certain.”

  “I can’t go over there and throw her out of the house. Also, she seems nice. She was waiting on dad hand and foot and checking his blood sugar for him. Stuff you won’t do.”

  “I’m an influential person with a packed schedule. You’re judging me for not playing nurse maid to a grown man?”

  “No, I’m not judging you.”

  “Perhaps you should look in the mirror. You’re not exactly the model wife or ex-wife.”

  “Mom, it appears you came over here to tell me I suck and to also ask me to intervene on your behalf. Stephanie Dillon, deal maker, I think you’re the one who might be losing it.”

  Kendra stood toe to toe with her mother. Stephanie glowered down at her. Though Stephanie was in her fifties and Kendra in her thirties, Kendra had no doubt that her mother could kick her butt in hand-to-hand combat. Her mother would stand her ground in this battle of wills. In any battle, really, your best bet was to be on Stephanie Dillon’s side.

  So, Kendra blinked. Fighting with her mother wasn’t on her list of things to do today. Kendra deliberately showed her soft underbelly to take the temperature of their interaction down a few notches. Her mother was usually disarmed by the soft underbelly because it signaled that she’d won. It meant Stephanie could relent and didn’t have to press quite as hard. Kendra had learned this over a lifetime doing battle with her mother.

  “Mom, let’s sit down and stop fighting. I’m tired. This current season of the podcast is eating me up right now. And Dad, well, you’re right on a lot of points.”


  Stephanie Dillon was formidable, and in almost any category you picked, tough as nails. She aimed to win. Kendra let her, and so, Stephanie put down her weapons.

  “Okay, good. I’m glad you see it my way.”

  Kendra hadn’t said that, but whatever. “I think we just let this play out a little bit.”

  “You mean let your father think he’s getting married, even though he’s already married? That will be wonderful for the gossip columns.”

  “Mom, there aren’t gossip columns, and you know it.”

  “Well, there are gossip blogs and thread its or whatever.”

  “Thread its? Oh, you mean Reddit.”

  “Yes, Johnathan handles that for me, thank god.”

  Johnathan was Stephanie Dillon’s assistant. Several assistants handled the details of Stephanie’s life. They weren’t all named Jonathan, but they were all called Johnathan. It was a title, more than a name.

  “I don’t think it will get that far.”

  “Well, you should have heard your father on the phone, announcing that he wanted a formal separation and that he’d found his future. Can you imagine?”

  “I can’t, but well, just give it a minute. Honestly though, would that be so unheard of, divorcing Dad, since you know, you aren’t really ever there?”

  Her mother didn’t reply to that observation. Kendra let it sit there. She found some water from the refrigerator. She twisted off the cap and split it into two cut-glass tumblers. She’d left most of their wedding gifts at the house she’d shared with Scott. But the glassware was here, for whatever reason. She couldn’t remember why she’d packed that up and brought it over.

  Stephanie Dillon wrapped her long, manicured fingers around the tumbler. She took a sip. Behind her mother’s eyes, Kendra could see plans being formulated, information calculated.

  Her mother took a breath. She placed the glass on the counter.

  “I am there. I am there when it matters.”

  Kendra cocked her head. Was her mother about to push her again to intervene with Big Don and The Gold Digger? Kendra also laughed at that idea, as though Big Don had a Vanderbilt-level fortune somewhere.

  “True.” Kendra decided agreeing with her mother had helped calm her down. Calm was good. Kendra didn’t have time for this little storm.

  “Well, good talk. I’ll have Johnathon get this painting hung. And honey, you’re going to need to get your hair done. That ponytail? It’s time to move on.”

  “I like it. It works well when I’m at ancient crime scenes and whatnot.”

  “Ugh, you and your sister.”

  Stephanie stood up, hugged Kendra tight, and was gone as quickly as she’d blown into the place.

  Kendra had the sense that her mother was up to something, in light of the fact that Stephanie’s initial plan to manipulate Kendra had hit a snag.

  She just hoped her parents could leave her out of it.

  Ha, she thought, that was highly likely.

  Her phone buzzed. It was Shoop.

  “The FBI has called a news conference for one o’clock.”

  “What’s up?”

  “They’ve got big developments on the High Timbers body.”

  Chapter 18

  Representatives from several law enforcement agencies stood at the front of the conference room. A lectern stood in the center. Microphones with mic flags from all the local media outlets were positioned on it. Judith French, from Kendra’s own station, had a WPLE mic placed in the fray.

  The media sat around the conference tables. Reporters in the chairs, photographers in the rear, their lenses able to shoot over the heads of the seated reporters. Since Judith was recording this for WPLE and was ready to get questions for the daily news, Kendra was able to sit back and take it all in.

  Next to the lectern, on a tripod, was a picture of a brunette with a wedge haircut. A “Dorothy Hamill,” her mother would call it.

  The woman’s name was Cynthia Hawkins.

  Public Information Officer Andy Shin read from a prepared statement:

  “Cynthia Hawkins was reported missing on October 15th, 1982. Her husband said he’d left for his 3rd shift job at Victory Break. His wife was home with their children, as was always their routine. He did not realize she was missing until the early morning hours after his shift. Their children also had no indication that their mother wasn’t in the home. On October 16h, a crew was dispatched to the residence. Friends, family, and neighbors were contacted. After an extensive search, it was determined that foul play was suspected, but no credible leads emerged. Mrs. Hawkins hasn’t been seen nor heard from since that date. No credit card records nor activity on her Social Security number had ever indicated she was alive, somewhere else. We can announce today, thanks to DNA samples provided by her now-adult children, that the body found at the High Timbers construction site is Cynthia Hawkins.”

  The room erupted in questions. Kendra let the reporters in the front row jump in, jockey, and grandstand.

  “What was the cause of death?” Connor Stinson, Your News 19, her old station, was in the front. He almost always got the first question out.

  “Though there was significant decay after all the time passed, it can be determined that Cynthia Hawkins was strangled. There were also several fractures in her hands and in her skull to indicate that she was also beaten.”

  “Are there suspects?” This time, Greg Grafton, Action News 11, jumped in.

  “At this time, any and all avenues are being pursued, but they were also pursued by the initial investigators. We’re looking at all evidence again, however, in light of this discovery,” said PIO Shin.

  “What about the husband?” Judith got that nugget in. Wasn’t it always the husband?

  “Paul Hawkins has been fully cooperative, as have their children. As you can imagine, the news came as a shock, and they’re working to process this information. They are not interested in talking to the news media. A statement from the family is in the materials.”

  “Is there a connection to The Nobody Girls murders, first reported by The Cold Trail?”

  Good old Judith! She’d made sure that Kendra and the podcast for the tiny public station got a little credit.

  “In 1982, Ned Wayne Ewald was arrested and charged with crimes unrelated to this murder; however, over the course of several decades, to a high degree of certainty, we have believed that Ewald was responsible for eight murders, including that of Cynthia Hawkins.”

  There were no more waiting turns for the assembled reporters. Half a dozen questions were shouted all at once. Kendra knew this part of the story; she knew it before Andy Shin told the daily beat reporters.

  She also had asked Agent Price all of these questions.

  The public information officer fielded the questions he could, but Kendra didn’t want to ask the FBI. She wanted to talk to Ewald.

  PIO Shin closed his folder and walked out. There were a few shouted questions, but he was done sharing.

  Judith would update WPLE listeners on the news of the day. Kendra wasn’t saddled with that responsibility.

  She looked over the news release provided to the media. And then she looked up to the poster of Cynthia Hawkins.

  Hawkins may have died like The Nobody Girls, but she hadn’t lived a life like they had. Not according to the materials provided to them today. Hawkins had a husband, and kids, and connections.

  Kendra was on a mission to talk to them all.

  Maybe this was the break they needed.

  Before she could track down members of the Hawkins family, another element shook loose for Kendra’s coverage of The Nobody Girls.

  Ned Wayne Ewald agreed to their request to conduct an interview.

  After weeks of waiting and hoping he’d consent to it, Ewald said yes. On this, Kendra was way ahead of the pack of reporters who’d covered the FBI announcement. It had taken her a long time to put this in place, and she knew any new requests from media outlets would have to start at the beginni
ng. Kendra felt like it might be a break that she needed in this season.

  Kendra would travel to the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility the next day. It was known as Lucasville to most since it was located in Lucasville, Ohio. It would mean another road trip, but Kendra was keyed up. The Cold Trail was about the victims, but getting Ned Wayne Ewald on the record was an element that didn’t exist as a possibility in a lot of their other seasons. For this one, the bad guy was already caught. Kendra was glad to make the drive and held on to hope, however unrealistic, that she could make the man confess.

  For that, she’d have to be ready with every possible detail and inconsistency they could find about the cases.

  Kendra and Shoop looked at the smart board and rehashed what they knew.

  Linda Kay Ellis, found in Port Lawrence by hitchhikers in 1978, is believed to be the first victim. She’s the first dubbed a Nobody Girl since no one had reported her missing. Her bellbottoms were wrapped around her neck, her body wrapped in a garbage bag, and strangulation determined as the cause of death. She was beaten and sexually assaulted. Kendra looked at the crime scene photo. There was debris, the body, and ‘70s-style clothes, and somewhere in the horrible scene was the sister that Wilma Kay remembered.

  Margo Kasinski’s body was found in 1979, near the Jellico, Tennessee exit. Her body was found in a culvert along the highway that had filled with water and then drained. Its condition made evidence collection difficult. No one reported her missing. What could be determined was that she was likely murdered two or three months prior to the discovery of her body. There were enough similar data points to flag Kasinski and Ellis as similar murders.

  Sincere Anderson’s body was found in late 1980, near the truck stop Ophelia had told Kendra about. Her body was found in Michigan. No one claimed it. No one claimed her. Agent Price observed that the Anderson discovery was separated by a state and two years from Linda Kay Ellis. That time and distance muted any discussion of a serial killer.

  In 1980, in Kentucky, Jane Doe One was discovered by weigh station worker Charlie Fairly. The circumstances match Linda Kay, Margo, and Sincere. There is no coverage on the news, or anywhere else Kendra and Shoop can find to indicate the public was concerned about a predator on I-75. Jane Doe One isn’t identified, still. Though Charlie Fairly’s account of finding the body, the debris, and the general conditions track with several previous victims. Deceased Special Agent Branson is assigned to all the cases.