The Nobody Girls (Kendra Dillon Cold Case Thriller Book 3) Rebecca Rane (ereader for comics .TXT) 📖

It was a good time for a mini-vacation. They’d just wrapped a season of The Cold Trail and hadn’t yet landed on their next cold case investigation.

Maybe this was it? Or maybe this was a bad sunburn for no good reason. Not that a dead body was a good reason, but that was the reality of what they were waiting to see.

It was too early to say if there was a dead body. There was a human femur, that much she knew.

Yesterday the contractors had found the part of a human leg while doing site prep. All work came to an abrupt halt so law enforcement could get here and supervise.

They were prepping the site to construct a huge new outlet mall. Big news for bargain shoppers. If they had a Coach bag outlet store, Kendra would add it to her list of shopping haunts.

Though it was the kind of place her chic mother wouldn’t be caught dead in.

Kendra winced as the phrase crossed her mind. Someone might very well have been caught dead here. It was a defense mechanism, gallows humor. She tried to resist it. She wanted to retain access to what it felt like to be a trauma victim or be close to one. This was key for her work, her interviews, her desire to find the stories. She had to work hard to prevent adopting a hard shell. Because sometimes a hard shell would be helpful. Especially after what she’d seen the last few years producing The Cold Trail. On top of her own dark history.

Kendra Dillon was the only member of the media present. Yesterday’s discovery hadn’t made the news or been broadcast on police scanners. One member of the construction crew saw something, he called his foreman over, and it made its way up the chain to the Port Lawrence post of the Ohio Highway Patrol. That’s where Kendra’s timing or random chance had come into play.

About an hour after the OHP post got a call from the job site, Kendra called for no other reason than to do a little beat check. It was a habit from her TV news reporter days. And it kept her in touch with local law enforcement at the ground level.

Kendra had gotten lucky. She hadn’t expected to find a lead or the next season of The Cold Trail when she called Lieutenant Tyler Omari.

“Lieutenant Omari, just checking in. Anything happening out your way today?” she’d asked down the line.

Tyler Omari had waited for a beat to answer. That was when she’d known it was a good idea to pounce. Normally, Officer Omari said, “Nothing doing” when she asked what was happening. That fast. Nothing doing. Without fail.

This time, he’d hesitated, and so she’d pounced—lightly, but a pounce, nonetheless.

She’d pushed him to give her a little more, and now she was here.

He’d let her know where to be when to be, and so she was. And since she was the only one to have called and listened and then pounced, well, the daily news operations of the region were out of luck on this story. If this turned into a story.

They were investigating possible human remains at the High Timbers Outlet Mall site. If the PR firm that managed the property had a clue what the crews were digging for, she’d probably be pushed farther back. But right now, it was just a construction crew and a cop who trusted her.

So, she could see a lot. She took a few still pictures. And then some video. If she needed a visual, it wouldn’t be a closeup. Kendra had a reputation for protecting victims, even decades after people had forgotten their names. She would do the same here.

None of these photos would be published. But Kendra knew sometimes she saw things differently from other people. Maybe something in the earth—now being turned gently by a few junior members of the OHP post—would reveal a clue to her. Or lead her down a path.

As that thought lingered, an officer put up his hand and yelled, “Stop, stop, stop!” to the half a dozen others at the site.

“Omari, take a look,” the officer added.

Tyler Omari stepped closer. Kendra did as well.

It was small, maybe no longer than Kendra herself. The troopers used a shovel to carefully brush away the crumbling dirt.

But it was unmistakable, what they’d found. A shredded garbage bag, covered in dust, a tuft of hair, and the bones of what appeared to be a long-dead woman.

Omari got closer. He used a pen to clear the bag from the body it had concealed.

Kendra watched as long-buried debris wafted in the hot air around the disintegrating plastic. A dry wind rustled the bag, and a crumpled old snack wrapper floated away. Kendra’s eyes followed it for a second. It was escaping, she thought. Unlike the person—clearly, a woman—had been able to do.

This woman had been discarded like refuse. She had been dumped here decades ago.

Kendra wouldn’t be the only member of the media on this site for long.

Chapter 3

One thing was certain, construction on High Timbers Outlet Mall was at a standstill.

“We’re going to have to take our cues from BCI,” Omari told her.

“Are they on the way?” Kendra asked.

The Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigation would do the science of identifying who this was and what happened if they could. The closest office was in Bowling Green, one county south of where they stood on I-75.

Kendra looked at the remains, unmoved, as they waited for experts from BCI to direct the next steps. The bag used to haul this woman away was mostly gone. It concealed nothing.

There was no gore or really anything soft. There was brown hair, though. It was long. Kendra stared.

“You going to be okay?” Omari asked her.

“Me? Yes, I’m fine.” But there was a vague nausea in her stomach that wanted to crawl up to her throat. She swallowed.

Omari handed her a bottle of water. “Hydrate. It’s hot.”

“Thank you,”