THE VANISHING WOMEN OF IOWA III

Chapter Three The Woman With Three Names By early 1973, investigators still viewed the disappearances as unrelated. The missing women came from different towns. Different occupations. Different social circles. No physical evidence linked their cases. No suspect had been identified. Yet hidden among hundreds of pages of reports was a recurring detail that nobody initially recognized. A woman. Always a woman. Always unfamiliar. Always gone before police arrived. The First Pattern In February 1973, Detective Ronald Becker of the Davenport Police Department began reviewing missing-person reports after receiving inquiries from reporters. Becker later described the moment he noticed similarities. "I wasn't looking for a serial offender. Nobody was. Female serial killers weren't exactly something we discussed back then. I was just comparing witness statements." The similarities were subtle. A dark-haired woman seen in Davenport. A blonde woman seen in Cedar Rapids. A brunette in Iowa City. Different descriptions. Different names. Yet the behavior remained remarkably consistent. The woman often appeared alone. She was described as confident. Well-dressed. Friendly. Older than many of the victims. Witnesses repeatedly noted her ability to make people comfortable within minutes. Three Names Investigators eventually identified three aliases that surfaced repeatedly in witness statements. Diane Carter Susan Mills Karen Blake No birth records matched. No driver's licenses could be located. No employment records existed. The names appeared genuine. Yet they seemed to belong to no one. Interview Archive E Former Bar Employee Sandra Kline The Lantern Room Interviewed 1988 Q: Did you know Diane Carter? Kline: If that's even her name. Q: Why do you say that? Kline: Because one night she was Diane. A month later somebody called her Karen. Q: Did that seem suspicious? Kline: Back then? No. Lots of people used different names. Q: Why? Kline: Privacy. Hidden Communities To understand the investigation, it is necessary to understand the era. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, many lesbian social spaces operated quietly. Patrons often protected their identities. Some used nicknames. Some concealed occupations. Some avoided photographs altogether. Researchers believe these circumstances unintentionally created ideal conditions for someone wishing to conceal a double life. Former patrons interviewed decades later consistently described the mysterious woman as fitting seamlessly into these environments. She knew how to speak. How to listen. How to disappear. Interview Archive F Former Patron Name Withheld Interviewed 1999 Q: Did you ever meet the woman investigators called the Pontiac Woman? A: I think so. Q: Why only think so? A: Because she never stayed the same. Q: What do you mean? A: Hair changed. Clothes changed. Accent changed. Q: Was she disguising herself? A: Maybe. Q: Yet you still think it was the same woman? A: The smile. Q: The smile? A: Nobody forgets that smile. Victim Number Four The fourth disappearance occurred on March 9, 1972. Twenty-seven-year-old Linda Crawford vanished after leaving a gathering in Iowa City. Witnesses reported seeing her depart with a woman identifying herself as Susan Mills. The pair entered a cream-colored Pontiac. Neither woman was seen again. At the time, investigators considered the sighting insignificant. Only later would it become one of the most important witness observations in the case. The Composite Sketch In June 1973, detectives gathered witness statements from three separate disappearances. An artist was commissioned to create a composite drawing. The result generated immediate controversy. Some witnesses insisted it resembled the woman they remembered. Others rejected it completely. One witness reportedly laughed upon seeing it. "That's not her. That's just somebody's guess." The sketch was never publicly released. Only a handful of copies survive today. Alias Composite Sketch (1973) A Reporter Takes Interest While police struggled to connect the cases, a young reporter named Michael Donovan began investigating independently. Working for a small newspaper in Cedar Rapids, Donovan noticed something that had escaped law enforcement. Several missing women shared acquaintances. Not direct friendships. Not family ties. Instead, they occupied overlapping social circles within Iowa's hidden lesbian community. His unpublished notes would later become central to the investigation. Among them was a sentence underlined twice in red ink: "The same woman may be hunting in different cities." At the time, few people took the theory seriously. Interview Archive G Detective Ronald Becker Recorded 1996 Q: When did you first believe the disappearances were connected? Becker: Summer of '73. Q: Why then? Becker: The numbers. Q: Explain. Becker: One disappearance is tragic. Two might be coincidence. Three gets your attention. By then we were looking at seven. Q: And the suspect? Becker: We still didn't know if she existed. Detective Becker's Evidence Wall (1973) The Photograph Nobody Could Explain In September 1973, an anonymous envelope arrived at the Cedar Rapids Gazette. Inside was a single Polaroid photograph. The image showed four women standing beside a lake. Three were eventually identified. All three would later disappear. The fourth woman was never identified. The photograph contained no note. No date. No indication of who sent it. The image became one of the most discussed pieces of evidence in the case. Some investigators believed the unidentified woman was the Pontiac Woman. Others argued the resemblance was purely speculative. The original photograph disappeared from police evidence storage sometime during the 1980s. Its current whereabouts are unknown. Polaroid photograph (early 1970) A Growing Fear By late 1973, rumors spread quietly through bars and private gatherings. Women warned one another. Descriptions circulated. Stay away from strangers. Don't leave alone. Don't get into unfamiliar cars. For the first time, the mysterious woman seemed aware of the attention. Witness reports became less frequent. Sightings grew vague. Then, on January 4, 1974, another woman vanished. She would be the last confirmed disappearance linked to the case. And after that, the suspect herself appeared to vanish from the face of the earth. End of Chapter Three Next Chapter: "Nine Missing Women" For the first time, investigators assemble the complete list of victims and discover a disturbing geographic pattern stretching across eastern Iowa. More troubling still, a witness comes forward claiming she may have escaped the Pontiac Woman.