by Rebecca Rane
Kendra swallowed the fear. The sooner she changed this tire, the sooner she’d be home safe. She was an adult, she was tough, and she’d handled herself in way worse situations than a creepy highway parking lot. She also didn’t want Kyle to be right. She didn’t need backup.
She located her jack from under the panel in the back. She positioned it so she could work on lifting the back end of her Jeep. Kendra Dillon knew how to change a tire. Big Don had made sure of it. He’d forced Gillian and her to practice, and almost any time anyone in the family had a flat, he insisted the girls be field-tested.
She started to crank and watched the Jeep slowly lift off the pavement.
“I was going to offer to help ya out, but it doesn’t look like you need it.” The deep voice of a stranger didn’t surprise Kendra. Rather, it was the doom she’d expected, finally ending the suspense and showing itself.
Kendra gripped her keys. And she turned to see that a bear of a man, in head to toe black denim, was standing several feet away, hands up in the air, in surrender, as though she’d just told him to stick ‘em up.
He wore a ZZ Top-style beard and ball cap with the Peterbilt logo on the front.
“Stay back. I’m not in the mood for it right now.” Kendra decided to act tougher than she felt and keep the denim-clad giant as far away as possible.
“My name’s Minnesota. I am TAT Trained. I’m keeping my distance because I understand I can be frightening. That said, I can crank the crap out of those bolts there if you need help.”
“Tat?”
“Truckers Against Trafficking.”
“Which is?”
“As a professional truckdriver, I’m aware that sometimes legitimate business locations, like this one, are used in human trafficking. I’m here to keep my eye out. And well, when I saw you, all of—what, a buck-fifteen?—wrestling with your tire, I figured I’d just let you know. I’m here. And I’ve got my eye out.”
“Okay, uh, thanks?” Kendra wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about Minnesota. But she did have a tire to change.
“Did you need me to help jack that up?”
“You know, I’m good, but you could, while staying over there, if you don’t mind, tell me more about this TAT.”
“Our mission is to saturate places like this with literature, learn how to spot problems, and report it when we see it.”
Kendra contrasted this with the experience she’d had just a few days ago. The sign on that trucker’s dashboard had read: Grass, Cash, or Ass, No One Rides for Free.
Minnesota produced a card from his wallet with the letters CTAT printed on it.
“And that means?”
“Certified Trucker Against Trafficking. Are you in danger? Can I call the state police on your behalf?”
“I’m not, currently, in danger. And thank you.”
Kendra’s Jeep was jacked up. She got to work on the bolts for her now totally decimated rear tire.
“Run over something?”
“Not exactly. A jerk out there on the highway rear-ended me while we were going about eighty miles an hour.”
“That’ll do it.”
Kendra removed all the bolts and rolled her tire off.
“Can I at least put it in the back of your Jeep for you? It’s dirty, and you’re all dressed up.”
“Minnesota, I think you’re restoring my faith in humanity.”
He laughed. And kept his distance. He clearly knew that approaching a woman who was alone in a parking lot could terrify her.
Kendra secured the spare and started tightening the bolts.
“Who taught you to do that so quickly? You on some pit crew somewhere?”
“My dad. He insisted I know how to change a tire and how to rip out the heart of a bear-sized trucker and show it to him while it was still beating.”
“You’re funny.”
“Thank you, and I think I’m done.”
“Since you just mentioned there’s a psycho out there that tried you run you off the road, do you mind if I hang here and watch as you get back out there? Maybe even escort for a mile or two?”
“On one condition, you tell me who to talk to for a podcast interview?”
“Come again?”
“I host a show called The Cold Trail. Your organization needs to be featured. I’m doing a season on murders that happened a long time ago, but the guy who did it was a trucker. And it turns out you’re not all bad by a long shot.”
“There are over one million TAT-trained truckers. We made nearly three-thousand calls to authorities last year, so no, we’re not all bad.”
Kendra walked up to Minnesota, well within bear swatting distance, and handed him her card.
“I’m Kendra Dillon.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“I’d be honored if you’d share the highway with me for a stretch, and like I said, let me know who I can interview. More people need to know about TAT.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Kendra checked her tire again; it was tightened and ready to go.
She had Minnesota’s information and realized that in all the stories she had done, and the ones to come with Ewald’s interview, that TAT would be a good counterpoint.
And she imagined they’d welcome the good press.
Kendra got in her Jeep, and Minnesota, as promised, followed from a safe distance. Her own personal bear escort. Kendra eased back on the highway. Minnesota was in her rear view the entire trip. When she was close to her exit, she flipped on her blinker.
Minnesota honked his horn. It was loud as heck; she was glad she was ready for that!
She pulled off the highway, and he continued on.
There was no one behind her now.
She drove past her condo. She was headed to her old house. The one she shared with Scott when they were married.
Tension finally left her neck as she pulled into her old driveway. The porch light glowed. She took a breath. It had been a long day, fraught with dangerous people.
She was here to get Swisshelm. It was her weekend. She had a lot of work ahead of her with the Ewald interview and continuing to track down the Hawkins family, but she’d do it with Swisshelm cuddled by her side.
Kendra did not expect to fall into Scott Goodrich’s arms, but that’s exactly what she did.
Chapter 21
“That was, uh, unexpected.”
Scott walked into their formerly shared kitchen and put his arms around Kendra’s waist.
She had started making the coffee. She was fully clothed, now, but she’d literally just turned back a year of life without Scott.
Kendra had woken up early and tried to process what she’d just done.
The night before, Scott had opened the door and offered his ear.
He hadn’t nagged her about safety or complained about her work. He’d listened and poured a glass of wine, and then another. She’d relaxed into what was good about their relationship. Scott hadn’t pushed her to stop the investigation like he might have if they were together. He’d just let her vent. He’d also made her laugh. He’d praised her for her good sense in the face of the maniac driver. He hadn’t blamed her for being out on the road. And well, it had just sort of happened.
“If Stephanie could see us now, she’d be throwing a party.”
“I hear she’s been spotted back at your house. I can’t imagine that scene.”
“Oh, yeah, that…well, I can’t begin to tell you how weird my parents are right now. But if my Dad’s blood sugar is under control, who am I to judge?”
“So, this—how am I supposed to think?” Scott said and put an arm around Kendra.
“Uh, can it just be, uh, a nice little sequel to our not-so-nice marriage? Do we have to think about it too much?”
“No, I suppose not. Except how about this? We grab dinner Friday night.”
This was a hard left turn; this was not what she’d intended when she’d knocked on the door to get Swisshelm.
“I’m
still a workaholic bent on fighting corporate oppressors.”
“And I’m still a corporate oppressor, I get it. But maybe we made things too hard that first time around.”
“We’re not even separated. We’re officially divorced and have been for over a year. This is backward.”
Scott put his hands on Kendra’s shoulders. “We don’t have to decide everything today. We have shockingly good chemistry, still, and I think having a broken home is tough on Swisshelm. Think of the cat?”
“It feels below the belt to use Swissy to play on my soft side.”
“You have a soft side? It must be new. See, we are different people.”
Kendra laughed and bent down to pick up Swisshelm. “I’m going back to my apartment, taking our cat, and getting to work.”
“And meeting me for dinner at O’Shay’s Friday. We can just see if this is something that was a blip on a divorce journey or a sign that divorce isn’t where we should be?”
“Fine.”
Scott leaned down and gently lifted Kendra’s chin. Their lips met.
There was nothing wrong with this part of their lives together, Kendra admitted to herself. He was handsome, could be attentive, and at his core, a good person. And her mother loved him. Great marriages were based on a lot less.
She left Scott’s house with Swissy and a bag that contained the cat’s current dietary needs. Which, of course, were ever-changing. She remembered when she and Scott first brought the little floof home. Swissy had been a stowaway. The floof had turned them into a little family.
That was before they were mired in hurt feelings, miscommunications, and eventually completely divergent life plans.
Kendra drove to her condo, Swisshelm’s head on her lap.
She’d agreed to dinner.
Just dinner.
But before that, she had work. She called Shoop.
“Can you work today? I have so much to sort.”
“Yep, I made major headway too.”
“I have Swissy, so I wondered if we can work here?”
“On the way.”
Shoop brought food. She really took good care of both of them, Kendra realized. And she knew that Kendra wouldn’t have a bite to eat in her place.
They opened their laptops and got to work. Kendra played the audio from her interview with Ewald.
“He seems nice.”
“Yeah, but he insists he didn’t kill them. I had a hard time believing him, but again, why would you admit to killing eight women? Unless he wants to be famous, there’s no reason at this point. And they have him dead to rights on the murder he’s in for. His fingerprints and a witness saw him; there was no way out,” Kendra said.
“Here’s what I found. I looked at his logged schedule with his trucking company. It was in the files provided by Agent Price from the original investigation. It fits seamlessly with what we know about the victims. His schedule lines up with the murders, which is a solid reason to believe they have the right guy,” Shoop reported, laying out all her research.
Shoop had dates, maps, and logs. They hit pretty closely to times of deaths and every known logistic for the murders from 1978 to 1982.
“It’s frustrating though, not having DNA or a confession, or even a solid witness.”
“Well, he’s in prison either way.”
“True, and we have his interview. It’s worth a full episode.”
“Right.”
They worked on their individual threads until they decided to break for dinner. Shoop microwaved the meals she’d brought over.
It was then that Kendra realized she hadn’t told Shoop about the maniac on the highway and the TAT Good Samaritan that had inspired an upcoming episode of The Cold Trail.
“Oh, and I had a thing happen.”
“You got laid,” Shoop said.
And Kendra blushed nine shades of red. She could feel it. She also couldn’t deny it.
“Are you back with Kyle? That is so awesome. I’m rooting for that guy.”
“No, and I did, but…well, it was with Scott.”
“I leave you alone for one day, and you reunite with Scott Goodrich?”
“No, it was just…well, it was good. And maybe we’ll do dinner. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. That’s not the thing.”
Kendra relayed her incident on the highway.
“Jeez, did you call the cops?”
“No. I mean, I was fine. I don’t have a license plate or even a good description of the vehicle. And I’m okay. What I’m trying to tell you is, when I was dealing with the tire, I got a lead on an episode we need to do, maybe toward the end, maybe as an extra. I don’t know, but it’s about this huge organization of truckers that are on the lookout for human trafficking. It’s kind of amazing.”
“Check, adding it to the calendar. And don’t think we’re done talking about the 180 your love life just did.”
“Shh, we’re done for now. We’re knee-deep in this season of The Cold Trail, and we have miles to go on that before I can kick back and try for happily ever after with any of my exes.”
“Fine. This discussion will continue but at a later date. You can bet on it. So, we have the interview with Ewald episode. What else?”
“Did you monitor the news coverage of Cynthia Hawkins?”
“Yep, all standard, so far, so good. Connor also called and wanted to interview you. He’s got wind that you interviewed Ewald.”
“Ha, well, if Art makes me do a media tour, I’ll call Connor back. I owe him one. Back to the Hawkins family, anyone get to them, other than the canned statement?”
“Not yet. All the coverage I’ve watched has been on Ewald. They’ve given him a name, and they’re waiting in line to make a celebrity out of a monster.”
“Do I want to know what they’re calling him?”
“The 75 Ripper.”
“Ugh, whatever.” It was just that kind of sensationalizing that turned the killer into the celebrity. “What about the other thing?”
“You’re going to want to hug me. I consent to the outpouring of affection that I am about to inspire.”
“Noted.” Kendra smiled at Shoop’s ability to bring light into the dark work they had to do each day.
“So, I’m the best. I’ve set up an interview for you with Cynthia Hawkins’ husband and one of her daughters.”
This was incredible news, especially since none of the stations had gotten there first. They wouldn’t be jaded by coverage or burned by a misquote. Shoop had done a huge thing, getting them to talk to her for The Cold Trail.
“You are the best,” Kendra said and then added, “How?”
“I just totally ignored the press clipping and worked on the daughter, the younger one. She’s a caregiver for the dad. It took two conversations, and I sent her a link to the interview with Suzette Marshall.”
Suzette was Annie Walter’s aunt. She had been key to doing what they were trying now, revealing something about a victim other than just their association to a crime. Suzette had helped them tell Annie’s story.
“Annie Walters is helping us. She’s making the way, so we can do for these women what we did for her. I feel it.” Kendra was overwhelmed for a second. She could clearly see Annie, the subject of their first season.
“Oh, man, now I’m going to cry.”
“I know, it just came to me in a flash. Her opening a door for us.”
Shoop reached out, and they squeezed each other’s hands. They let the thought wash over them.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Kendra mumbled. “It just came to me how sometimes these things are all connected. I know, sappy.”
“No, not sappy,” Shoop reassured her. “I think about Annie all the time. What I learned on that season helped us with Sister David and Sister David with Ethan. It’s not separate. It’s connected.”
“Right, okay, so, where are we?” Kendra dabbed the corners of her eyes. The burst of emotion had taken her by surprise. She’d bottled up her emotions surroun
ding a lot of events in recent days. She’d pushed through them. But in this safe space, with her best friend, some of that stressed leaked out. A little pressure escaped. Perhaps that slight vent was an important key to helping her keep the lid on. For now, anyway.
“Well, after she heard how we handled Annie’s story and how Suzette came across, she called back and said she could trust us to do a respectful interview.”
“This is exactly what we needed, Shoop.”
Cynthia Hawkins’ family was a way forward for the podcast. That was an all-consuming goal for Kendra.
Kendra looked at the Hawkins files. The initial autopsy reports fit the ones they’d read in the cold case files. Though Cynthia Hawkins’ body was discovered decades after it was buried, that meant the report was sparser. Especially when it came to any examination of soft tissue. There just wasn’t any after all this time.
Kendra looked through the old reports and laid them out side by side.
The autopsy sections revealed the injuries to Cynthia Hawkins’ throat. An examination of her skeletal system revealed broken bones in her neck and her face. The femur they’d found on the site that had triggered the full-scale search was likely not broken during the commission of the crime, but when the heavy construction equipment dislodged the remains.
Kendra scanned down through the evidence of injury section. Several entries listed results as inconclusive due to decomposition.
The gastrointestinal section of the autopsy report was blank. Kendra looked at the other reports.
There were redacted lines under the gastrointestinal section of several of the reports.
“Do we know why there are any redactions at this point? After all this time?” Kendra asked Shoop.
“Not sure if they’re just there from the copies or what?”
“I’m calling Agent Price.” Kendra dialed the agent, and to her surprise, got a fast answer even though it was after hours. She cut to the chase. “I’ve got a question on some of the files.”
