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

by Rebecca Rane

  Scott stormed out, and as he did, Kendra realized that if she disappeared today and some podcaster interviewed her ex-husband, he wouldn’t have much good to say.

  Chapter 25

  The FBI contacted Barb Hawkins Woodside, as Kendra had predicted. The local media also clamored for any nugget of the story they could after the news that Cynthia Hawkins could be directly connected to Ewald. It was all there in the podcast, and it had ignited a fresh feeding frenzy on the story.

  Kendra and Shoop watched a few of the television reports.

  New evidence against a serial killer.

  A deadly affair unlocks a clue to a killing spree.

  Barb refused all other media inquiries. The FBI issued a statement that new evidence had come to light that strengthens the case against the currently incarcerated suspect.

  No one was talking, and so every report from local to national had to mention the source, The Cold Trail interview.

  Art was thrilled.

  Kendra agreed to do interviews with other news outlets to make Art happy, but with the stipulation that at the end of each interview, she could put a plea out to anyone who knew Margo, Krissy, or Susan.

  Kendra’s first interview was at her old stomping grounds. Connor Stinson had continued to stay in touch with her, and he’d earned an interview. Since Art insisted that the best promotion was a free promotion, an interview on Your News 19 with Connor Stinson killed two birds with one stone.

  Connor had been the up-and-coming hotshot reporter when Kendra was still in television news at the same station. He was now either poised to go to a bigger market, the network, or take an anchor chair in Port Lawrence.

  Kendra respected Connor. He worked hard to bring stories to the Your News 19 viewers, even if they weren’t always the kinds of stories Kendra would tell.

  Kendra was tempted to put on a skirt, high heels, and even a television news statement necklace for her return to the newsroom that fired her.

  But in the end, she decided to go with the polished podcaster in Chuck Taylors vibe that had become her go-to work attire.

  Shoop was only half on board with that decision.

  “Look, I get it, we’re edgy, we work the crime beats, we’re new. We don’t need pastel suits and lip plumping lip gloss to perpetrate our brand of journalism.” Shoop pumped her fist and flopped her head from side to side while teasing Kendra.

  “I’m beyond the whole buffed and polished look. I’m not there for a job interview. I’m there to be interviewed about the job we’re doing. Doing well enough to crush them. Don’t forget, they kicked us out, fired us, dumped us.”

  “Yeah, I remember, which is why I think a little revenge glamour is in order.”

  “You sound a lot like my mother.”

  “She’s rarely wrong.”

  In the end, Shoop convinced Kendra to take her makeup up a notch and wear her hair in loose waves instead of a tight ponytail.

  “You look gorgeous! That’s what I want, you to crush them with the regret they have to feel when they see how you’re doing.”

  “How we’re doing.”

  “Right, mention that I’m here looking like a million bucks too.”

  “Got it.”

  Your News 19 wasn’t far from WPLE. It was situated on the river, on the south side of downtown Port Lawrence.

  Satellite dishes and various antennas jutted out from the roof of the two-story building. The brick was wrapped with the faces of the main anchor and weather teams.

  Reporters did not get that type of star treatment. For reporters, a lot of them anyway, a station like Your News 19 was a revolving door or a stop on the way up.

  Kendra parked in front, walked in, one Chuck in front of the other, head high, and hair fluffed.

  “Kendra! So good to see you!”

  The receptionist, Andrea, stood up, ran around, and embraced Kendra.

  “Thank you so much, great to see you too.”

  “I’ve been rooting for you and am the biggest fan of the podcast.”

  “That’s sweet. I’m here to see Connor.”

  “Yep, he told me to expect you! Hang on.”

  The television station security was a million times more stringent than the public television office. There was a security door to get in and another to get past Andrea.

  Eventually, Conner emerged into the lobby.

  “Girl! You’re crushing it!”

  “Thanks, Connor.”

  He also came in for a hug, and Kendra awkwardly accepted it.

  “I thought we’d do this on set. It’s got the best lighting, as you know.”

  “Whatever you want,” Kendra agreed.

  Connor led them through the newsroom. A young reporter was sitting at Kendra’s old desk in the bullpen. No one but management had offices at Your News 19. Even the anchors were in gen pop.

  The quiet she had gained by moving to WPLE was a godsend. The din of a police scanner and chatter of reporters always filled this room. If you needed to concentrate, you better be able to do it in the middle of chaos.

  A few producers waved as they walked by.

  “You can catch her after the interview,” Connor said. They moved out of the newsroom and into the main Your News 19 set. “Here we go.”

  They’d be using a section of the set where they did interviews. It was across from the main anchor desk. That desk was large enough to land a plane on, in Kendra’s opinion. With enough lighting to be seen from space.

  “Hey, lady!”

  Kendra was thrilled to see Marlon Sparrow. He’d be shooting the interview. Marlon was Kendra’s favorite photographer when she’d worked at Your News 19.

  Marlon was a six-four former lineman for Port Lawrence Tech. Kendra tended to barrel ahead at breaking news, back in her time as a TV reporter. Marlon was there to block for her when needed. She missed him. Another hug headed her way, and this one lifted her off her feet.

  “Kendy, you’re too skinny, way too skinny. You’re network skinny.”

  “Ah, you know how it is. I forget.”

  “I do remember that.”

  Kendra sat down. Connor sat opposite. Marlon put a mic on her. She’d learned how to do that for her guests from him. It could be an awkward moment, but Marlon did it with finesse.

  Marlon also knew how to get the shot but not get in the way. It was a skill. Marlon did it well.

  “Okay, so, let’s start,” Connor said. “You interviewed The 75 Ripper. What were your impressions?”

  “His name’s Ned Wayne Ewald. He’s not some sort of super villain. He’s a murderer.”

  “Right, right, does he seem remorseful?”

  “No, he doesn’t. He has not confessed to the crimes. All we can say with certainty is the crime he did admit to. The murder that has nothing to do with the deaths of the women along I-75.”

  “Now that there’s a connection to Cynthia Hawkins, do you think that will change?”

  Kendra thought about it for a moment.

  “I don’t have any insight into the mind of Ned Ewald. All I can really say is that victims we found deserve justice, and they deserve to have their stories told. Seeing as Ewald’s is now movie-of-the-week material.”

  Connor asked her about the victims, her investigation, and then at the end, it was time for her to make her plea.

  “I just want anyone who knew Margo Kasinski, Susan Hodges, or Krissy Jackson to reach out,” Kendra stated sincerely, looking directly down the barrel of the camera. “We’re desperate to know who they were, to share their stories.”

  That was wrap. Kendra knew Connor would be allotted one minute, thirty seconds for this story. Maybe then, later in the day, it would be chopped up further into a thirty-second anchor voice-over piece. Giving a complete picture within that constraint was a hard job. And Connor was good at it. Kendra had struggled with it her entire time in television news. These days, her intros lasted one minute.

  She said hello to the people who she’d worked with and was ab
out to make her way out when Noah Bradley popped his head out of his glass-walled office.

  “Dillon! Good to see you, got a minute?”

  Noah Bradley was the news director who had hired her. And fired her.

  Now he wants me to pop in for a minute?

  Kendra was done walking down memory lane. She had work to do. Her podcast was in the middle of a season. Kendra and Shoop had countless facts to check and interviews to request.

  Kendra hadn’t ended her television career on good terms. Not by a long shot. She was a success-oriented, ambitious person. This place represented a huge failure on her resume. Being fired wasn’t on her career vision board. Still, she took a deep breath. Bradley couldn’t fire her again, she reasoned.

  She walked into Noah’s office, and he indicated she should have a seat.

  “How are you, Noah?”

  “You know how it is. The question is, how are you? I mean, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed The Cold Trail. You’re breaking ground with each season.”

  “Thank you. Long-form investigations are a good fit for me, turns out.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Are you under contract at WPLE?”

  Kendra didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t Noah Bradley’s business. The fact was, she wasn’t under contract. Art could can her or cut her at any time.

  “No, no contract.”

  “So, what if I was to propose you move here, back to Your News 19, your home.”

  “Uh, Noah, it’s not my home. And you don’t do podcasts.”

  “Just let me float this idea: You, your own staff here, a podcast format, and a long-form half-hour show to go with it? All around your work as a cold case investigator.”

  “Uh, I’m happy at WPLE.”

  “Sure, sure, but you’re not getting rich.”

  “No, but no one here gets rich either, except the main anchor. Remember, I used to work here? I do know the drill.”

  “Look, just think about it. I know we ended on rough terms. I want to fix that. I want to bring you back to the viewers that love you.”

  Kendra blinked her eyes as though that would clear her ears.

  “I’m in the middle of a season. This investigation is really all I can manage right now.”

  “I understand,” Noah said. “When it’s done, let’s get a drink. The network is coming in next month, and I know they’d love to meet you.”

  Kendra stood up. They shook hands.

  “It’s a flattering offer, thanks.”

  “Just don’t screw your career by staying in public television. You’re on the cusp of something huge, and I can help you get there.”

  Kendra nodded and hustled out of Your News 19.

  She had no idea what to make of the offer from Noah Bradley.

  She’d think about that later when things calmed down. For now, the focus was on Margo, Susan, and Krissy.

  Chapter 26

  Kendra did several more interviews. And with each outlet, she made her plea again for more information on the victims. From her podcast to bigger podcasts, amplified on the local news, then statewide, and eventually, even CNN interviewed Kendra.

  Each time she asked for help in finding out more about the women.

  The murders were solved, the bad guy had been arrested, and now he was grabbing headlines. But that wasn’t enough for Kendra and Shoop. As far as they were concerned, they had failed.

  Eventually, Kendra’s media blitz produced a lead. One they’d been hoping for, in the form of a phone tip.

  Krissy’s mother was alive. And was in an assisted living facility in Atlanta. She didn’t listen to podcasts and barely watched television. But a caregiver did, and she knew that Prudence Truth Jackson had a picture on her nightstand, an old one, of a girl who never visited.

  A girl who couldn’t visit. So the caregiver spoke up and called the podcast.

  After several calls with the facility director, an interview was arranged, and Kendra took a flight from Port Lawrence to Atlanta.

  She booked a car and arrived at the Golden Hours Elder Care facility by noon, two days after they’d received the tip.

  The public relations team escorted Kendra to Prudence’s room. As they walked down the hallway, a young woman who worked at the facility approached Kendra.

  “I’m the one who called. I am a big fan of your podcast. When I heard this story, it rang all the bells about Miss Prudence.”

  “I appreciate that you reached out.”

  “Miss Prudence is old. Her hearing isn’t great, but I asked about the picture, and well, you’ll see.”

  “Miss Dillon, we should proceed. We don’t want to disrupt the residents too much if we can help it,” the communications director, Dustin Shriver, said, putting an arm out to let Kendra know to move along.

  “Oh, yes, excuse me,” the young woman said. “I just had to meet Kendra Dillon.”

  “Again, thank you,” Kendra told her.

  Shriver knocked on Prudence’s door. “Miss Prudence, the lady from the podcast is here.”

  “What?”

  “The PODCAST LADY!” Dustin Shriver’s voice rang in Kendra’s ears.

  Kendra decided to take the lead and sidestepped Shriver.

  “Hello, Miss Prudence, I’m Kendra Dillon.” Kendra was loud but not shouting, and she put out her hand. She looked the woman in the eye.

  “Oh, yes, please have a seat. If we were at my house, I’d have baked you something.”

  “I would have accepted, thank you. I’m going to record our conversation for my show. It’s like a radio show.”

  “Yes, I remember. Keely, my aide, told me. I even listened to one. You have a nice voice, and you don’t talk too fast. That’s very good.”

  “I appreciate that.” Kendra put the digital recording device on the side table and then leaned in to put the microphone on Miss Prudence. She wore a purple dress and looked almost like she was decked out for Easter. “You look lovely in purple.”

  “Thank you, I wanted to look nice today. They said you might take a picture?”

  “That would be good, but only if you say it’s okay.”

  “They came in and had my hair set, so it would be a shame to waste these curls.” Miss Prudence used her hand, which had a slight tremor, to puff her hairdo.

  “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you. We’re gonna talk about Krissy now?”

  “Yes. If that’s okay with you.”

  Miss Prudence nodded yes. “They said in the newspaper there’s this man they think did it. I sure wish I was able to talk to him one good time.”

  “What would you say to him if you could?”

  “I’d say, ‘See you in hell.’”

  The niceties, the hairdo, the baking, it was all gone in a blink. Miss Prudence would kill Ewald herself if given a chance. That was the flash Kendra saw in the old woman’s eye.

  “What can you tell me about Krissy?”

  “When she was a child, she was such a talker. Asked me why the sky is blue, asked me why I used mayonnaise for the sandwiches, but Miracle Whip for the tuna salad, asked me why everything was anything.”

  “Was she your only child?”

  “That’s the thing. That’s probably why they never informed me of anything. She wasn’t my girl. She was my friend Teensy’s girl. Teensy was a friend of mine. Teensy died very young, ovarian cancer. So, I took Krissy in when she was a little thing, four years old, after Teensy died. Little Krissy had nowhere to go, and well, after that, she was my girl. But we never did it formally. She was already in kindergarten when her mama died.”

  That did explain how Krissy could disappear and how it was impossible to find anyone who knew her.

  “Is her name Jackson on official things?”

  “No, it was Teensy Hill. Her name is Hill, well it was Hill. But she went by Jackson, my name.”

  That explained one reason it had been difficult to find school records.

  “How did she do in sc
hool? It sounds like she was a curious little girl.”

  “She was friendly to the other children and sweet, but she didn’t do that well in school. She had dyslexia, so reading and math, those grades weren’t too terrific.”

  “Have you read the things they’ve said about her?”

  “I have, I did. She was in a bad way, had gone down a bad road. Started with one boyfriend, and then well, I washed my hands of it. I wish I’d have push a little harder, but I wasn’t her mama. I couldn’t make the rules once she got to a certain age. I feel bad about that now, so terribly bad.”

  “Well, let’s go back to before that boyfriend.”

  “Oh, for sure. She was in a little play at the school, for the holidays. I remember that very vividly. She played this elf and wore these green tights we found for the costume. It was such a fun night. She memorized all the words perfectly, which was hard, but I practiced with her.”

  “Did she watch TV, have a favorite show or music?”

  “She thought Happy Days was funny. Me too, we watched that together. She liked that one with the three roommates too, but I thought it was a little too jiggly.”

  “Three’s Company?”

  “Yes, that was it. She laugher head off at that Jack Tripper.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “I wish I knew to tell you that. I don’t remember the exact time that was the last time. I worked at the grocery store then. I was on my shift cashiering. She came in. And I took my break. We stood outside and talked. I was really careful not to bring up anything that would start an argument. We fought a lot once she started that life that I knew would kill her one way or another. She didn’t even ask, but I knew she needed money, so I gave her all I had in my pocketbook. Probably twelve dollars. I usually used it to get the bus, but I walked home. I was glad to walk home if she needed that money. But I was worried then too. I knew the way things were going with her life.”

  “You’re not sure if that was the last time?”

  “We might have fought the last time, or we might have seen each other. I try not to put too fine a point on it. That way, maybe that kind of nice time was the last time. And not a fight.”