The Nobody Girls (Kendra Dillon Cold Case Thriller Book 3) by Rebecca Rane (e book reader online txt) 📗

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.