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

discuss the latest investment in the riverfront by the billionaire J.D. Atwell. Kendra moved on to dessert. She’d skipped way too many meals of late. While they were on the dessert course, Big Don seemed thrilled with the fruit cup Stephanie had ordered for him.

A flipping fruit cup?

Her parents were getting along, and her dad was eating a fruit cup. Kendra felt a strong desire to buy a lottery ticket or check for airborne pigs.

She shook it off and tried to enjoy this small window of peace in the Dillon family.

He returned to his hidden apartment in Port Lawrence. He’d been gone for too long.

But he’d collected all the articles. He’d recorded all the news programs.

He hadn’t missed a thing. Not really.

Podcaster solves a forty-year-old cold case.

75 Ripper could be responsible for “dozens and dozens” of murders.

Kendra Dillon strikes again!

Podcaster in the crosshairs of a serial killer.

It had been imperative that he be out of Port Lawrence for a time. It was important to deal with the million things he managed.

But he’d been fully apprised of her activities.

He also still had the GPS tracker in her vehicle. When he was hundreds of miles away, he still could watch her. She’d gone farther afield for this latest endeavor.

He was as concerned as her father or mother would be that she took such risks. If they only knew.

Kendra was now known nationally. He didn’t know if that was going to be a problem.

He read how she’d solved the case. How she’d teamed up with that handsome police officer and nabbed the bad guy.

The 75 Ripper. Add ripper to anything, and it sounds horrible. What an amateur. Better than most, he supposed. But still, pedestrian. Driving around in a van? Cruising for hookers?

That was laughable.

He also knew Miss Dillon’s opinion of naming a serial killer, lauding them. The 75 Ripper was more famous than Kendra Dillon or any of his victims. Kendra hated that.

But, to be sure, Kendra Dillon was famous now, in certain circles. There was a pack of stalkers much more dangerous than this zealot who sold snacks. He wasn’t the only one like himself. Though he was at the top. The pack he knew had resources far beyond a van and unlimited snack foods.

Still, she’d been smarter than the FBI, by far, on this case.

Her intelligence, her tenacity, her bravery, and even that assistant of hers, combined with the trauma he’d burned into her skin, had produced something quite extraordinary. Unique. That was what he truly loved. She wasn’t ordinary. He also loved his part in creating what was exquisite about her.

His Kendra.

He wondered, absent of his prodding, if Kendra had gotten more confident, bolder.

He’d created a delicate balance in her, and if he neglected to remind her, she might grow too far away from him. That was a concern.

But he was back now. He’d recalibrate. He’d soon knock her from her moorings once again.

His apartment was hidden in plain sight. From the outside, it was just another abandoned structure along the river. He didn’t turn on the lights. He didn’t allow anyone inside.

He’d created his own little lair. He could watch Kendra from here. And he could run his enterprise.

It housed his own collection. He opened the door to his hidden space. He unlocked the safe. All was where he’d left it.

He didn’t linger, though he did place a tiny ring amongst his tokens. It sat next to Kendra’s things and a few others of note. He didn’t always save the treasures. Just the ones that were truly as special as their owner.

He closed the safe and walked to the window.

He just wanted to be there and watch. To not disturb the air around him. To keep the energy neutral. That was a new skill he’d aquired. It was a practice.

He did think Kendra could sense him when he was close. She had gotten better at knowing when he was watching. Even if she didn’t know exactly what had pricked the flesh on her arm.

He hadn’t pushed her lately. Life’s ebbs and flows had made that less possible.

It probably was a miscalculation on his part. Never a mistake. No, life was about gathering information, adapting to it, tweaking the variables until you achieved the desired outcome.

What was his desired outcome? What was his long game?

Kendra, of course, under his complete control. She was now, to some degree, something he could calibrate. She would respond in specific ways to him. But still, she was unpredictable. It wasn’t without risk, for him, to toy with her.

It was important to remember she’d gotten away. She’d outsmarted him as a girl. But of course, he was younger then too.

He watched her via his telescope. He was worried about her. She didn’t take good care of herself. She took excellent care of her needy parents but believed herself impervious. He’d given her that sense of invincibility. Or maybe she was comfortable with her own mortality? He’d examine that more deeply.

He had bugged her condo.

The handsome police officer was there. They sat close on Kendra’s couch. Kendra placed her head on his shoulder.

They laughed.

He didn’t want to be jealous. But that was the emotion. It felt like acid in his windpipe.

Famed podcaster disappears.

He conjured that last headline in his imagination, but soon, he’d make it real.

The End

A Note From the Author

I hope you enjoyed The Nobody Girls. I have a free story for you about Kendra’s first big investigation. It’s only available to my newsletter subscribers. It also features Swisshelm so you don’t want to miss it! Just sign up for my newsletter to get the free story. You’ll be alerted when I have a new release or a sale.

Thank you so much for reading.

Rebecca Rane

About the Author

Rebecca Rane is an award-winning writer. She's a veteran television and print journalist. She weaves her decades of real-life experiences as a reporter into the Kendra Dillon Cold Case Thrillers. Rebecca lives in Michigan with her family. When she's not writing pulse-pounding thrillers, Rebecca