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

  “You said you were afraid of the way her life was going? Did you believe she was in trouble?”

  “I did. I knew it was big. I knew it was powerfully bad. The way she was going. I prayed for her every night. Maybe that would have worked. Maybe she would have understood it wasn’t the way. And that she had a place to land with me if she was on the straight and narrow. I might have been able to get her in as a bagger or stocker. But she didn’t have time to find out what a different life was. Powerfully bad doesn’t give you time to change. It kills you. And it killed her.”

  Chapter 27

  Kendra was ready to fly back home. She had to be satisfied with the stories and the pictures that Miss Prudence had provided. She had a better look into Krissy Jackson’s life now. Kendra smiled at the photo Miss Prudence had shared of an elementary school-aged Krissy, dressed as an elf for the play.

  Kendra was waiting for her flight and organizing her thoughts when Shoop called.

  “How’d the interview go?”

  “Good, she’s a good woman, and she had some good memories. In a lot of ways, it was much more straightforward than what we had for Cynthia Hawkins.”

  “Yeah, that was a minefield, for sure. I’m glad I caught you before you got on the plane.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re preboarding, so you barely caught me.”

  “I just booked you a different flight.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re going to have to hustle, but Atlanta to Knoxville, and then get a car to Jellico.”

  “Margo?”

  “Yeah, the boyfriend called me back. He’s ready to talk.”

  “Wow, when?”

  “This afternoon. So, yeah, you better have your Chucks on because you may have to run to catch the new flight.”

  They hung up, and Kendra did have to run. The good news is she never checked a bag. She was always the queen of carry-on luggage.

  She was one of the last to board, but she’d made it. If all went to plan, she’d be interviewing Margo Kasinski’s boyfriend by late afternoon.

  Craig Boxner had chosen the location. According to the sign, the Smokey View Diner had been in operation since 1948.

  Boxner had told Shoop that he was the owner and manager of the diner. The outside of the Smokey View was covered in stainless steel paneling. The windows took up most of the walls, and red striped trim raced along the bottom of the entire building.

  An oval sign with a yellow starburst accent was mounted atop a tall pole. Travelers could see it from the highway. Hungry travelers and locals alike, looking for good coffee and a great waffle, were welcome.

  Kendra walked in, and it was like walking back in time. Red vinyl covered the booths that lined the restaurant walls. An l-shaped counter ran the length of the interior. With Prudence’s mention of Happy Days fresh in her mind, Kendra observed that Richie Cunningham and The Fonz could grab a seat, and they wouldn’t look out of place.

  The smell of bacon and maple syrup brought back memories of long ago family road trips, with Big Don at the wheel and Stephanie reading the map.

  Craig Boxner spotted her right away and introduced himself. He wore his white hair closely cropped; a white dress shirt was neatly tucked into black dress pants. He offered Kendra a seat at a booth at the end.

  “Coffee, or maybe a soft drink? Are you hungry?

  “Ah, coffee would be great.”

  Kendra wanted to do the interview undistracted by the fluffy waffles she eyed at a nearby table.

  Craig returned with the pot. Kendra flipped the white coffee cup over onto the saucer, and he poured. She noticed a creamer on the table and added a dash.

  Before the fluffy cream clouds stopped swirling in her cup, she had her recorder set up.

  Kendra decided to dive right in. Craig Boxner had been quiet for decades. That was his default. She didn’t want to give him the chance to return to it.

  “How did you know Margo?”

  “We dated, a little, six months on and off. We went to the same high school. She was younger but sweet, cute. We started dating at the end of my senior year, her junior year, then on into the summer.”

  “Was it serious?”

  “Desperately serious as teenagers can be, and then not if you can understand that.” Kendra nodded.

  “Can you tell me what she was like, give me a sense of who she was?”

  “She was a damaged person. Before that was a phrase. I think at first, I was attracted to that. My family was about as normal as a family could be. I mean, we had a lot of fun and excitement running this place—I’m the third generation owner here, by the way—but it was other people’s drama that came in and out. Margo, she was like a Jellico Holly Golightly. Kind of wild and always up for a party but also very vulnerable.”

  “It sounds like she was kind of glamorous.”

  “Yes, in my eyes, I think so. It was the 1970s, but we weren’t exactly cutting edge out here. She had drawstring short shorts, this Farrah Fawcett hairdo, and platform sandals.”

  Craig slid a yellowing photo across the table. There she was: Margo Kasinski. Kendra had only seen a school portrait and the tiny group shot from the yearbook. But in this photo, she stood outside the restaurant, flashed a peace sign, and smiled for the camera.

  “What did she want to do after high school?”

  “She wanted to move out of Jellico, maybe go to California and see the ocean. She didn’t have dreams to be a movie star or anything, but she could type. She thought maybe she’d be an executive secretary, maybe even at a movie studio. That was the plan, as plans went.”

  “What kind of things did you two do together?”

  “When I had extra cash, we went to the movies. When I was strapped, we’d just drive around. Hang out. I was not the most creative of boyfriends, nor husband, I suppose, if you ask my wife.”

  “What movies, do you remember?”

  “She loved Smokey and the Bandit and, of course, Saturday Night Fever. She was kind of like Sally Field in that Smokey and the Bandit movie if I had to categorize her looks.”

  “She sounds lovely, truly.”

  “She was, she was.”

  “Why haven’t you spoken about her, other than back then? There was only one interview?”

  “Our attorney for this place, he didn’t get to me quite quick enough. I was a suspect. They dragged me into the station. They questioned me aggressively before Harvey, our lawyer at the time, got me out of there. Anyway, I made the mistake of answering a phone call from the paper when I got home, and Harvey blew a gasket.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, keep in mind, she’d gone off. Or that was what we thought. Margo didn’t have a close family. She was a wild child in a lot of ways. I thought I was dumped or left behind or something for her big idea to move to California. I didn’t know the truth, that she was murdered. None of us did until they found that body in the culver, her body.” Craig’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Like I said, in those early days, it was a horror movie. Or felt like one. Her body was nearly unrecognizable, but she’d clearly been murdered, put in a garbage bag. It was awful. Then I shoot my mouth off and answer questions. Harvey had a heck of a time untangling me from that investigation.”

  “Why were you so entangled if you’d broken up and all?”

  “Ha, well, we were fighting. And it was in public, and it was in this parking lot. A lot of witnesses saw me grab her arm, and yell, and her slap me. That was the last time I saw her. I was supposed to drive her to this motor court she was staying at with her stepmom.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No, I didn’t. We’d been in a fight; I lost my temper. To this day, I can’t even remember what set me off. But she was infuriating. I thought she was maybe trying to make me jealous, and I was 19, so I took every bit of bait.”

  “So, they find her body, they question you?”

  “Yeah, and I lied. I said we were fine, and it was fine. And then a couple of people who saw us fight c
ome forward, and I get trapped in my lie.”

  “Why did you lie?”

  “Because I let a sweet girl walk out into the night, alone. I never saw her again, but I was guilty as heck of letting her leave. And that was the last time I saw her. It was my fault she walked off in a huff. My fault that she was out there.”

  “I see.”

  “Once the cops realized I’d lied, things got very dicey for me a stretch there.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “As Harvey advised, I shut up. He also produced a dozen witnesses that saw me here after the fight. Washing dishes and bussing tables. Something about if I’d done it, it wouldn’t have been right after the fight. That was enough to cool things a little.”

  “And then you shut up.”

  “Yes, and I stayed quiet. The theory around here was that Margo went off, hitchhiked, and took the wrong ride. I guess it’s pretty on the mark.”

  “Why talk now?”

  “I heard your request about Margo and the other girls. That hit me hard. She deserves to be remembered.”

  “And they got the guy, Ewald.”

  “Yeah, that helps too.”

  “Did you look at his picture? Had you ever seen him around here?”

  “He looks like a million other drivers who come in and out of here. I had no recollection of him. I wish I did. I wish I could say, ‘Oh, that guy. He did it.’”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, the FBI is pretty confident.”

  “And you found that connection to that other victim, good work.”

  “Thank you, and thank you for talking to me.”

  “She was a firecracker, that Margo. I have no doubt she’d have made good on going to California. I kind of like to think that in some alternate universe, she did just that.”

  Chapter 28

  By the time Kendra got back to Port Lawrence, it was way after hours at WPLE. She’d dozed off on the plane and was wired. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to be here, to process all she’d just gotten on Krissy and Margo.

  She thought of her mother, Shoop, and even Kyle, who she knew got frustrated by her tendency to forget everything else, even food when she started to obsess about a cold case.

  She’d been at the diner and didn’t eat. She’d been on the plane but fell asleep. Kendra couldn’t remember the last meal she’d eaten.

  Then she remembered: She had a box of free food from that Vista Foods guy in the back of her Jeep! It wouldn’t be the healthiest of meals, but at least she could tell whoever asked, or nagged, that she had eaten something. She grabbed the box and walked into the office.

  “Ha, there, see? Such growth,” she said to no one in particular.

  The station was never empty, but at ten to midnight, it was nearly empty.

  Kendra uploaded the interview files into the shared hard drive they used for all their audio. She tore into a bag of chips as it processed.

  Of the eight women the FBI believed to be Ewald’s victims, Kendra had worked hard to find as much about them as she could. She had a better idea now of who five of them were. They’d been able to share with the listeners a few details about their lives. It was something, but not everything.

  The identities of three women that the FBI was sure had died at the hands of Ned Wayne Ewald were still essentially unknown. They were nobodies next to his increasingly more infamous name.

  He was The 75 Ripper, and they were Jane Doe One, Jane Doe Two, and Susan Hodges.

  And Susan Hodges might as well be a Jane Doe. No one had come forward to claim her as beloved. Kendra couldn’t let it go. In the end, she felt like her job was still unfinished.

  Kendra opened the FBI files and spread them out on the conference table. It was quiet. No phones ringing, no Art bursting in to demand they get moving on promotion, no requests into the receptionist that Kendra talk to Inside Edition or whatever.

  Kendra thought back to the beginning when she was standing outside at the High Timbers site. She knew more now about what she’d observed. She had to be sure that she hadn’t missed a thing. Kendra tried to re-examine every angle.

  She looked at the files, careful not to get Caliente Chips dust all over them.

  A scene flashed in her memory. She remembered the debris that had scattered when they’d found Cynthia Hawkins’ body at the High Timbers construction site. Kendra got out her phone to look at the images she’d captured.

  Then she walked over to the computer and pulled up the Charlie Fairly interview. She fast-forwarded.

  “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, ick. I’m not going to lie. That was extra freak out.”

  Her heart raced. She rifled through the files of each crime scene.

  She scanned the photos taken when Linda was found. There it was. A Caliente Chips wrapper. That made three scenes with the same food wrapper.

  She shuffled through to Sincere’s file. It was hard to see, but there was debris that looked like it could be a chip bag. There was maybe candy too. It wasn’t clear. She put Sincere’s file aside.

  Of the photos that were clear enough to see, Susan, Jane Doe Two, Linda, Cynthia, and Charles Fairly’s recollection of his discovery of Jane Doe One made six of the eight victims.

  In all six instances, there was the same food wrapper.

  Kendra clicked open a browser on her computer. Kendra found a site, MashMouth, which was devoted to the history of snacks and convenience foods. She typed in Caliente Chips. A circle rotated on the screen while the site crawled for articles on the chips. Several lines popped up, history, ingredients, and pop culture impact of the gas station junk food.

  Caliente Chips were introduced in the 1960s. They were sold exclusively as a treat for travelers to enjoy while they were on the road. They were a knock-off of Doritos, but several articles claimed they were better and a fun staple of a road trip. “A family vaction wouldn’t be the same with out them!” Exclaimed the pop culture expert quoted in the article.

  Kendra read the article. She realized there was someone she could ask to verify that information.

  It was late. She had calls to make.

  This was a whole new avenue to pursue.

  The I-75 Killer had left a calling card. And she believed she’d found it.

  Kendra got on the phone. There would be no sleeping tonight.

  Chapter 29

  She sat in the same spot.

  He said he would be here at seven. It was hot already, just like it had been the day they’d found Cynthia Hawkins’ body.

  It was so old. She’d been buried so long that it didn’t even smell. The smell of dust and earth was stronger than what it might have been if she’d been found earlier, like the rest of the victims.

  Kendra’s eyes were burning. She’d maybe slept four hours or so in the last forty-eight.

  She’d been staring at screens and reports. Stomach contents were determined in four of the reports. The autopsy had concluded that sometime in the two hours before they’d died, the victims had eaten.

  Caliente Chips, M&Ms, Yummy Gums, Bazooka Gum, Fritos. Nothing healthy, all things you’d get from a gas station or truck stop. All the foods were within the realm of the ordinary.

  The victims frequented a shadowy world, where people passed in and out without making a mark. Fancy meals or even home-cooked meals weren’t a part of these women’s lives. The last thing they’d likely have eaten wasn’t a meal but a snack. None of that helped narrow down a suspect; it was expected. It was a throw-away bit of minutia that wouldn’t lead to the identity of a killer.

  But Kendra believed it had.

  Her excitement over the things she’d learned since last night had propelled her into the night and onward. She was more than awake, even if her eyes felt like sand.

  Kevin Bunce’s van pulled into the rest stop parking area. Sh
e smiled at him. He got out and gave a little wave.

  She had questions that she hoped he could answer. She adjusted the microphone.

  Bunce walked up to the table and sat across from Kendra.

  “I appreciate you meeting me here. I know you have a busy schedule.”

  “Well, sorry it’s so early,” Kevin replied. “Gotta head down to southern Kentucky before the day gets too far along.”

  “I’ll get right to it then. Did you kill Linda Ellis first or Margo Kasinski? Since Margo wasn’t found right away, it wasn’t exactly clear.”

  Bunce didn’t react. He didn’t flinch. Kendra didn’t know what she’d expected him to do. But he was cool in the morning heat, even as she accused him of being the The 75 Ripper.

  “See, I looked at those crime scenes again,” Kendra continued. “They all had Caliente Chips wrappers somewhere in the photo. The FBI didn’t see that as a calling card. I didn’t either, but I kept seeing it. You left it there for someone to find, didn’t you?”

  Kevin Bunce looked from Kendra to the surrounding area.

  They were alone. Traffic buzzed by on the highway, but they were off the road. They were sitting at the same picnic table as they had before. Even it was a distance from the rest stop building.

  “You’re very clever,” Bunce said. “Even the FBI missed it.”

  “It wasn’t just that, though. There were no more victims on I-75 after Ned Wayne Ewald went to prison. The killing stopped here, but it didn’t stop in Arizona or Nevada, did it?”

  “Yeah, the Ewald thing was a convenient bit of timing for me that I was able to capitalize on. I actually killed that one, the mommy, because I wanted to throw the scent toward him. That was a bust since it took so long to find that body. But no matter. They wanted to believe it was him. That solved the case.” He pretended to wash his hands in the air.

  “But you didn’t stop, did you?”