The Nobody Girls (Kendra Dillon Cold Case Thriller Book 3), Rebecca Rane [best book club books of all time txt] 📗

“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,