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

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. She 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?”

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