by Rebecca Rane
Kendra had three files. They were a hunch. Shoop and Kendra had gotten good at spotting Bunce’s handiwork, even if they didn’t know it was him when they started looking.
“Nancy Calder, found in Nevada,” Kendra stated. “Debbie Thomson, outside of Phoenix, and Jane Doe, also Nevada. All of them, with your calling card.”
“I’m doing the world a favor. I’m doing God’s work. Whores, drug addicts. The world doesn’t need them. I take care of that. And things are a cleaner when I am done.”
“And you control yourself. You’ve never gone out of control. You limit it. You wait, you space it out.”
“That you know of.”
There was a sickening smile on Bunce’s lips. He blinked his eyes slowly. The face he’d shown her up to that moment was a mask. The evil underneath was exposed. It made her flesh crawl.
“You’re sick.”
“I should have just gotten rid of you on the highway that night.”
Kendra’s mouth flew open. It was Bunce who’d rammed her Jeep that night! He’d been tracking her then, trying to scare her.
“You followed me.”
“Yeah, I would have finished the job if you hadn’t made friends with that trucker. How far did that go? You sure looked like you wanted it.”
The man was twisted. Kendra shuddered to think he’d been watching her as she’d changed her tire. And she owed Minnesota a thank you. TAT had saved her.
“Get up.”
Bunce moved fast and grabbed Kendra’s arm from across the table. She thought she was ready for it, but still, it scared her. His slow pace the rest of the time belied the speed with which he’d lashed out and grabbed her wrist. She felt her old wounds blaze to life as he squeezed.
Kendra stood up, and he yanked her close to him.
“We’re going to walk to my van, you’ll have a little fun, and you can tell me more about my dastardly deeds! And then you can see exactly how I killed those sluts. I mean, you’re a member of the media, a news slut!”
Kendra walked toward the van. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She tried to control her breathing. What if this didn’t work? Had she miscalculated?
Bunce opened the door of his van, using the remote in his other hand. He kept a vice grip on her as they got closer.
“Hop in.”
Kendra saw it then, the face he’d given the women he’d killed. There was a slight smile, a cock of the head. It all looked so non-threatening, so friendly. Nothing like a man who’d put a Grass, Cash, or Ass sticker on his car. Kevin Bunce was nice.
Kendra knew if she got in that van, she’d never get out.
“LET HER GO!”
And there he was, Kyle Carver, gun drawn, ten feet away, ready to blow Kevin Bunce’s head off.
Bunce squeezed Kendra tighter. “I’ll slit her throat; you want that?”
Kendra didn’t know if he had a knife, but it didn’t matter.
From the other side of the van, Lieutenant Omari had his service weapon at Bunce’s temple. Carver had been the distraction needed for Omari to close in.
“I think not. Let her go,” Omari demanded.
Bunce was trapped. It took him a second to accept that, and he squeezed Kendra’s wrist harder. She winced.
But then Bunce released Kendra’s wrist. He knew he was done. Kendra had snared him in her net, and he had no way out.
Turnabout’s fair play, she thought.
She had his confession on tape, and eventually, it would be on the podcast. First, it would go to Agent Price.
Officers were everywhere now, and they handcuffed Bunce and read him his rights. He was silent but was somehow able to continue to keep his eyes on Kendra.
Kyle put an arm around her and walked her away from the scene.
“Come on, he’s trying to spook you out.”
Kyle had arrived an hour before Kendra. He’d been hiding in the rest stop bathroom. Omari had left his car in the woods and had hunched there until Bunce made his move.
And Agent Price had coordinated the wire that Kendra wore.
All three agencies would get credit for a taskforce-type effort. But it was Kendra that had solved it.
She hadn’t done it alone. Shoop had helped find the other victims. She’d come in and started re-listened to the raw, unedited interview with Kevin Bunce. She’d heard his comment about being transferred and then found the exact route for the Vista Foods Rep Western U.S.
The scope of the number of women he might have killed was staggering.
After Shoop and Kendra were sure of Kendra’s hunch, they called Price.
And Kendra had called Kyle. She remembered why he’d run from her, and it was because she went face first into situations like this, over and over. When she called him, she explained that she was trying to learn, to be better, to ask for help.
After decades of no activity on this case, the speed of the last few days was almost dizzying.
Kyle hugged Kendra as the patrol car, carrying The 75 Ripper, drove away.
“You did good, and you called for backup. See, if you were a cop, like your sister, you’d know that backup is key to staying alive.”
“Well, I didn’t even know if I was going to get a return call. You dumped me pretty good.”
“It worked, see? You’re not unconscious or shot at. That’s progress.”
Kyle hugged her, and Kendra exhaled.
Kendra and Shoop didn’t stop. They worked day and night until the episode was ready to record. And they got it uploaded before any of the other media outlets were on to the story.
It had been a marathon several days, but finally, Kendra felt like they’d done everything in their power for the victims. Her voice had a hint of hoarseness when they finally recorded the episode that revealed the real identity of The 75 Ripper:
After authorities arrested Kevin Bunce, a floodgate burst. It’s still bursting.
Kevin Bunce had been on the road as a salesman for Vista Foods since the late ‘70s.
Not only had he worked in the Midwest and out west for a time, but he’d also had routes in the Dakotas and a stint in the Pennsylvania and New Jersey area.
According to Special Agent Sylvia Price, the FBI is working with several other agencies across the country to match unsolved cases with possible victims of Kevin Bunce.
But I keep going back to the two Jane Does we tried to find.
On that score, I failed. No one knows their names or who they were.
What we do know, now, is how the last few hours of their lives on this earth unfolded.
Kevin Bunce was a fixture at Smokey View Diner, at Easy On Truck Stop, and at dozens and dozens of places, just off the highway.
He was there weekly in some cases, monthly in others, delivering products from Vista Foods. He was also one of the nice ones, one of the good guys. He didn’t hire sex workers. He didn’t do drugs or sell them. He was clean. And so was his vehicle.
It is very likely that his victims recognized him when they got into his van. None of the reports gathered so far include any witnesses. No one saw Linda Kay, Margo, Sincere, Cynthia, or maybe a dozen others get into his van. This means they were happy to do it. They felt safe with a person that seemed the least threatening in their lives.
In the cases we’ve looked at, it’s reasonable to assume that Bunce had seen the victims in the parking lots of the establishments on his routes. They’d likely seen him too. In Margo Kasinski’s case, she was probably walking on her own or running away from the Smokey View Diner when Bunce offered her a ride.
In the case of Cynthia Hawkins, he’d likely seen her at the truck stop. It was where she frequently met Ned Wayne Ewald. Killing Cynthia Hawkins was Bunce’s way to throw the authorities off the scent. Though they never quite connected the dots between Cynthia and Ewald’s relationship, Ewald fit enough to make authorities believe he did it.
The van that Kevin Bunce was driving a few days ago offered a few insights into what happened after he invited his victi
ms in.
By design, the passenger side door locking buttons did not work. Once his victims got into the van, they’d need him to unlock the doors if they wanted to get out.
Bunce didn’t use a gun or a knife. He used his hands to kill his victim, to strangle them, and to beat them.
The back of Kevin Bunce’s van was well stocked. Not only did he have the Vista Foods products for the businesses on his route, but he also had surgical gloves, garbage bags, and tape.
The issue of fingerprints wasn’t a concern for him, thanks to his meticulous use of gloves.
There was no DNA evidence to link Kevin Bunce to the eight victims we outlined in this case. There is also no evidence that Kevin Bunce’s DNA is on file anywhere. He has never been arrested for any crime. He has never received so much as a speeding ticket.
That, however, is about to change. His DNA has been collected and uploaded. The Hawkins family has provided DNA as well.
Suppose there are other victims who fell prey to this monster in more recent years. In that case, modern crime scene investigators will be able to match it.
And while some serial killers take items from their victims as souvenirs, Kevin Bunce didn’t want a thing from the women he killed.
He wanted to discard them like he did the refuse from the snacks he sold.
He regarded it all as garbage.
This is exactly what finally got him caught.
They weren’t garbage.
We debated about the name of this season because we hate it. We hate that anyone would call these women nobody. They weren’t. They might have been in the margins of society in some cases, but they were loved. They are still missed, profoundly, by the people they touched.
We made it our mission to reveal who they were. As best we could. But we didn’t succeed with two of the women. They remain Jane Doe One and Jane Doe Two. Even though the season is officially complete, the cold case solved, we will continue to search for their stories. For that reason, this season will continue to have an asterisk next to this final episode. The search continues as long as it takes.
Because they weren’t Nobody Girls in somebody’s eyes.
I’m Kendra Dillon, and this is The Cold Trail.
Chapter 30
It was Tuesday, so Kendra was going straight to Franzy’s to meet her Dad. She had no idea if she’d be dealing with Darleen as the future Mrs. Don Dillon. She hoped not. But she had admittedly ignored her family for the last three days.
Tony Franzy greeted her as she walked into the restaurant.
“I want to congratulate you on your continued amazingness. A prolific serial killer this time? It’s beyond.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“I want to say more, but I can’t. We have bigger things to talk about.”
“What is going on? Your eyebrow is practically touching your hairline. It’s so arched.”
“I could tell you, or I could just watch you go back to your Dad’s table.”
“I hate surprises.”
Franzy was trying to control hysterics or a burp or something.
“Right this way, ma’am,” he said. “Just a warning, in my entire life, I do not remember a scene like this.”
“Now I’m worried.”
Kendra walked through the restaurant to Big Don’s traditional Tuesday booth.
As she approached, she saw what had caused Tony to nearly explode.
There, next to Big Don, was Stephanie Dillon. Kendra had to blink to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Her independent woman of the world mother was dropping a piece of bread into his mouth!
“They’re acting like they’re on a honeymoon or something. It’s adorable,” Tony whispered.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Awe, they’re in love,” Tony cooed.
Kendra never wished for her sister to be with her more than in this moment. Only Gillian would understand.
Her family was close-knit, her Dad was a generous giver of big hugs, but her parents, getting along and being romantic? Being sweet? This was just wrong.
And just like Tony had said, totally unprecedented.
“What the heck are you two up to?” Kendra said. She stood with her hands on her hips at the edge of the table.
“Hello dear, glad you could make it,” Big Don replied. He gave her a look that indicated he’d won a big prize. What that was, she hadn’t a clue.
“I told you I would.”
“What are you doing here, and what’s the meaning of all this, this, lovey-dovey crap?”
“Kendra, sit down. You’re making a show,” said Stephanie.
“I’m not the one making a show,” Kendra shot back. But she did look around and realized people were looking. She slid into the booth. And she kept a wary eye on her parents.
“We’re still married, for goodness’ sake,” Stephanie said.
Franzy showed up at the table.
“You’re sure about that order?” he asked Big Don.
Stephanie provided the answer. “He’s sure, and make sure to get her his former order. We’ve got two ends of the spectrum here, don’t we?”
Kendra assumed Stephanie meant that her daughter looked ill. That’s what came of chasing serial killers fueled by coffee and Caliente Chips.
“And what do you want this evening, Madame Mayor?” Tony asked.
Stephanie was no longer mayor, but a lot of people still called her that. It was a title that fit and stuck.
“You know, just a salad. I’m also on the diet train. Always am, I’m afraid.”
Kendra couldn’t remember a day that her mother wasn’t one ounce heavier than she was now, in her late fifties.
“On the way,” Tony said. And he caught Kendra’s eye again. Tony was one of her oldest friends. Short of Gillian being there, Tony was proably the next best person in her life equipped to understood the weirdness of the Dillons getting along.
“So, what’s the latest fallout from The 75 Ripper thing?” Big Don asked.
“We’re not talking about this?” Kendra put both of her hands out and gestured to her parents, currently sitting close and holding hands.
“This? Well, your mother heard about my feelings for Darleen, and it riled her up, I guess.”
Stephanie laughed and shrugged.
“Who are you?” Kendra spluttered. “Have you both been body-snatched and replaced by aliens?”
“Oh, stop, we didn’t divorce for a reason. We do love each other. I was reminded of that fact when I heard about that gold digger trying to worm her way into Daddy’s life. We won’t have it.”
Daddy now? Kendra closed her eyes and shook her head.
“How are you feeling, Dad?”
“Good, blood sugar fine and all that. We had to let Darleen go, which I hated to break her heart, but it was a fling.”
Kendra winced at the word.
A waiter appeared with their food. He placed a steak in front of Kendra and a plate that consisted of vegetables and a chicken breast in front of her dad.
“No, I think we’re backward,” Kendra said.
“We’re just right,” Big Don replied. He grabbed his fork and dove in.
“Okay, for sure, aliens.”
“I’ve got to run to the ladies’ room. Come on, Kendra. We’ll be right back, Don.”
“I don’t.”
“Join your mother, don’t be rude,” said Big Don.
She half expected him to steal her food when she turned her back. But she followed her Mom to the ladies’ room anyway.
“So, you want to tell me why you’re back here, with Daddy?” Kendra deliberately put an emphasis on the word. It flew past Stephanie.
“You see him eating, right? Do you see that gold digger anywhere?”
“No, I do not see her, and she was just a nice lady.”
“Well, she was horning in on our family. We don’t need that. I will be here, pay attention to him for a few days, and even get his blood sugar on trac
k. Sometimes he just needs to be managed.”
Kendra shook her head, and they head back to the table. On the way, Stephanie was intercepted by a voter or something of that nature. She always was.
Kendra found her dad, hands in his lap, waiting to eat until they returned.
“You could have started.”
“I was raised in the north end, but not by wolves.”
“Okay, so Mom says you’re doing okay too. I’m glad.”
“See, all I need to do every once in a while is rattle the cage, your mother dances to my tune.”
“Do you mean to tell me the thing with Darleen was you rattling Mom’s cage?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“That Darleen is lucky she got out while she could.”
Stephanie returned to the table, and they started eating. The weirdness of her parents acting like a normal couple faded, and the conversation turned to Kendra’s job.
“You’re going to need to do a story on the good work of the Teamsters around here,” Big Don said. “Because truckers are coming off very badly in this current season of The Cold Trail. They’re our life’s blood, a vital part of our community.”
“You mean, of your constituency,” Kendra countered.
“Look, you gotta tell the story as you see it, as you find it, but you’ve also made enemies in this town because, for a petite little thing, you have the footsteps of an elephant,” Big Don remarked.
“As it so happens, I have a great interview coming up, with a great trucker. We just haven’t aired it yet because we had to get the arrest episode up.”
“Honestly, I didn’t listen. I was so scared when I heard you were there, with that monster, that I just couldn’t,” said Stephanie.
“It all worked out. You should listen,” Kendra told her. “Anyway, this is a complicated story, spanning decades, so Art agreed to let me air a few follow-up episodes, including this episode about the Truckers Against Trafficking organization. It’s a non-profit that fights to educate the public about the signs of human trafficking.”
“Oh, good, that’s good,” Stephanie said.
Her parents were master negotiators, so she decided to try to steer the conversation toward something they could help with. Or at least their input on. There was no doubt that both of them had amazing careers.
