Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“So, do you think it’s a serial killer?”
“Could be. We’ve had some of those, too, but either way, he’s not working alone. There are other people doing the same things. Gotta be. Been going on too long. Unrelated. Murders happening at the same time, clear across town, in different villages and neighborhoods. No one can be at two different places at one time. Definitely more than one person. It’s open season on indigenous women. We’ve had enough problems already, and now, just add this to the pile.”
Kim glanced at her phone while Martha slipped on her hat and gloves, taking note of the news clip Martha had sent her. Quickly scanning it, she got the grotesque gist of it. First, there was a female torso discovered in a swamp. Just the torso. No arms. No legs. No head. Less than twenty-four hours later, someone had found the mutilated remains of a young Indian woman not too far from Holy Cross, a village over 240 miles away from Fairbanks. Yet, the young lady, a cashier at a gas station, was from Fairbanks and had just started her freshman year in college. How’d she get so far away?
Kim turned off her phone, and her tuna dip and cracker dinner she’d scarfed down an hour prior repeated on her after reading the details. She snatched her purse off the restaurant counter and made her way outside with Martha. The wind had died down, and though it was cold, it was comfortable enough to walk without huddling oneself for a change. They’d finished their shift together, and now she was on her way to Jack’s to stay the evening. Her initial happy mood, despite the situation regarding being found by the hired gumshoe, was now snuffed out like a flame at hearing Martha’s horrific news. The stack of cards was tumbling.
Standing by their side-by-side parked cars, they hugged one another as they always did, and wished each other safe travels. Martha wiped a tear from her eye, and Kim shook her head as she tamped down her emotions, refusing to fall apart with her friend, as tempting as it was. She needs a strong support system right now, and I’ll be that for her, even if the timing isn’t the best. Martha waved goodbye once more and went to open her car door to get in and leave.
“Martha, wait. I’ve been thinking. I have an idea. Let me run it past you.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Remember that I told you that I wanted to support you with this? You know, help the cause of locating missing Indigenous women from Alaska, and make people more aware of it state and country-wide?”
“Yes, you said you wanted to help me get the word out. Thank you for the donation to the organization, again. They really appreciated it.”
“Yeah, no problem, but I want to be a bit more hands on. These independent organizations trying to get a handle on these abductions and murders need more money, and my little hundred dollars is a drop in the bucket. They have to hire people to canvass places, run websites, ads in papers and on social media, do footwork, feed the front liners, things like that. That money will be gone before the check is cashed. How about an event to raise money and bring attention to this issue at the same time? I’m thinking a fundraiser.”
“What kind of fundraiser?”
Kim took a deep breath. “Okay, let me be totally transparent. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself lately, but I can turn it into something good. The thing is, I may never be on Broadway again—I have no plans to live back in New York anytime soon—but I can still move this body of mine. I’m a performer and a dancer, and the arts are within me. My parents encouraged my natural talents, and it was the best thing they ever did for me. I can always feel it. To my core. It’s in my blood.” A surge of pride radiated within her. She felt instantly rejuvenated at speaking her truth. “I want to start a group for children interested in theater and dance.”
“A children’s dance troop?”
“Yes, kind of. See, we can do a class for eight weeks, free of charge for the children, maybe ages 8-17, but when we host the event, we will charge a fee for everyone to come see them perform. We can serve drinks and appetizers for attendees to purchase during an intermission, and possibly merchandise with the organization’s logos, too. Now, keep in mind, this gives an opportunity for costumes to be purchased, as well, but not at the parents’ expense.”
She took a deep breath and released it. “I’m talking too much, don’t want to get into too many details right now, but just trust me. I’ve done this before, back home in Manhattan. The costumes could be another fundraising event, which can render additional funds as well if we play our cards right.”