If I Run (A Ruby Hunter FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

By Molly Black

FBI BAU Special Agent Ruby Hunter remains haunted by “The 13 Killer,” the serial killer who took everything from her—including her partner—before she put him away for good. Yet somehow, though behind bars, new bodies are showing up with his trademark 13 signature. Is he behind it? Will Ruby, still shattered, return to the force to confront him again?


“Molly Black has written a taut thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat… I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait to read the next book in the series!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder



IF I RUN is the debut novel in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Molly Black, whose books have received over 2,000 five-star reviews and ratings.



FBI Special Agent Ruby Hunter wants nothing more than to put the 13 killer, and her days in the FBI, behind her, and to try to pick up the pieces of her life. But he refuses to rot quietly.



Ruby realizes she must do the thing she dreads the most: visit him in prison. But he is diabolical and cunning, an expert at toying with his victims—and with her.



Separating fact from fiction, his delusion from real-life clues, will be key for Ruby. With a new victim’s life on the line, and time running out—and Ruby herself in danger—the stakes could not be higher.



But is Ruby walking right into his trap?



A complex psychological crime thriller full of twists and turns and packed with heart-pounding suspense, the RUBY HUNTER mystery series will make you fall in love with a brilliant new female protagonist and keep you turning pages late into the night.



Books #2 and #3—IF I TELL and IF I LIVE—are now also available!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Black
• Release date: Nov 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094330068

Book preview

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I F  I  R U N

(A Ruby Hunter FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

M o l l y   B l a c k

Molly Black

Bestselling author Molly Black is author of the MAYA GRAY FBI suspense thriller series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the RYLIE WOLF FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books (and counting); and of the RUBY HUNTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Molly loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.mollyblackauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2022 by Molly Black. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Maxime Aubert Leblanc used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

MAYA GRAY MYSTERY SERIES

GIRL ONE: MURDER (Book #1)

GIRL TWO: TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL THREE: TRAPPED (Book #3)

GIRL FOUR: LURED (Book #4)

GIRL FIVE: BOUND (Book #5)

GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (Book #6)

GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED (Book #7)

GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED (Book #8)

GIRL NINE: GONE (Book #9)

RYLIE WOLF FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

FOUND YOU (Book #1)

CAUGHT YOU (Book #2)

SEE YOU (Book #3)

WANT YOU (Book #4)

TAKE YOU (Book #5)

DARE YOU (Book #6)

TAYLOR SAGE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

DON’T LOOK (Book #1)

DON’T BREATHE (Book #2)

DON’T RUN (Book #3)

DON’T FLINCH (Book #4)

DON’T REMEMBER (Book #5)

DON’T TELL (Book #6)

KATIE WINTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SAVE ME (Book #1)

REACH ME (Book #2)

HIDE ME (Book #3)

BELIEVE ME (Book #4)

HELP ME (Book #5)

FORGET ME (Book #6)

HOLD ME (Book #7)

PROTECT ME (Book #8)

REMEMBER ME (Book #9)

CATCH ME (Book #10)

WATCH ME (Book #11)

RUBY HUNTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IF I RUN (Book #1)

IF I TELL (Book #2)

IF I LIVE (Book #3)

IF I FORGET (Book #4)

IF I RETURN (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Somewhere between the bar and home, it got quiet. Back a few blocks, Alannah Danes had been one of many tipsy twenty-somethings spilling out of nightclubs in teetering heels. Now, the street was empty.

She pulled her phone out of her clutch, finding the last number she dialed.

Make it home safe? her sister asked groggily. Not only was Sylvia home on a Friday night but she’d apparently gone to bed early.

Walking home, Alannah replied, putting her sister on speakerphone. Will you take me to get my car tomorrow?

Sure. What time will you be done with that hangover? Sylvia teased. 

I’ll be fine. I’m already sobering up, Alannah said.

Maybe it was the cold, but it was more likely her nervousness bringing her senses back into focus. Her eyes flitted for signs of movement around her. The flicker of something out of the corner of her eye made her jump. Only as the car headlights passed her did she realize it was her own shadow moving across the wall. That’s where she was at. Startling at nothing.

Alannah huffed out a breath, her faith in her awareness shaken. She swore there was a quiet approach of footsteps, but maybe it was just her imagination jumping to conclusions again.

She paused, listening a little closer.

It's a little late to be on your own.

Alannah heard him before she saw him, a man in dark clothes stepping out of an alley into the dim light thrown by distant streetlamps. He was easily bigger and taller than she was, all the things she didn’t want to bump into late at night.

Who was that? Sylvia demanded.

Alannah said nothing, frozen in place.

I could walk you home, the man said.

All at once, Alannah could move again, shaking her head. Plenty of guys had offered her that in her life, but never so eerily. Never without flirtation.

That unnerved her more than if he had leered.

That’s okay, she said hurriedly, shuffling past.

Alannah? Sylvia tried again.

Help, Alannah whispered back. Where was she? She knew she’d struck out due east from the bar, but what streets had she already passed? How many more blocks to go?

What’s happening? Sylvia asked.

Alannah didn’t have an answer for her. She checked over her shoulder, looking for something about him she could describe, something more helpful than explaining that a man appeared out of nowhere and offered his company. How threatening did it sound when she put it like that? A man who didn’t sound salacious at all, but something else.

Instead of his identity, all she could pick out was the knife.  The knife and a bone-white smile.

Help me! she screamed, breaking into a sprint. Someone would look out one of the glowing apartment windows and call the police. Someone would do something.

Her heel caught in a grate, sending her reeling into a wall. In a second, he was looming over her, flashing the kind of smile that sent goosebumps rising over her skin.

A strangled cry shredded her throat as white-hot pain radiated through her chest. It took seeing the hilt of the knife against her skin to understand, to connect the pain to the blade. As swiftly as it went in, he pulled it out again. Alannah thrashed, sending something skittering across the sidewalk.

It was the knife. He had dropped the knife. She kicked it further away, darting out of reach only to hit the ground hard.

Dizziness hit Alannah as she crawled across the sidewalk. It was nearly impossible to grip anything. Each beat of her heart made her fainter and fainter. There was a hedge ahead; all she had to do was get behind it and wait. Someone would do something.

Alannah, what’s happening? he called in a mocking whine.

Alannah curled as small as she could behind the hedge, her vision spinning. This was why Sylvia stayed in all the time. She wished more than anything that Sylvia had just come out with her this one time.

Or that she’d stayed at home with Sylvia instead. Tears pin-pricked her eyes, but she clamped her jaw shut in silence.

Then came the blaring tune of her ringtone.

Alannah clapped a hand over her mouth. She could see it, just out of reach, Sylvia’s name bright across the screen.

A long shadow stretched toward her. The knife was raised like a macabre shadow puppet. He stepped around the hedge, leaning down over the phone to wordlessly answer the call. Sylvia’s muffled voice called out for her.

He raised one finger to his lips and Alannah screamed until her voice went hoarse.

The knife glinted like a slice of crescent moon in the night.

CHAPTER ONE

Ruby Hunter was not much of a mourner, but this was not a funeral either. 

It was a cemetery and there was a headstone, but it was long past the time for saying her prayers.

It had been three years since Asher Carnes’s death, and Ruby looked the part of a widow standing among her colleagues. In another life, she might have been a classic Midwestern farm girl, brown-eyed with hair long and wheat-colored. She had always been small, but that had only made her a better gymnast back in high school. All the soft edges Ruby could have had were betrayed by a stiff resolve she hadn’t shaken, even after Asher’s killer had been caught.

That should have brought her peace but an emptiness grew inside her instead. 

You got him. Jocelyn Fontaine leaned over to whisper in Ruby’s ear. Joce had been an instant friend, back when they were both starting out. It felt so long ago now, but then, everything did in the division between before Asher’s death and after. Now, Ruby felt distant from her, like they were practically strangers.

But Joce wasn’t wrong. Ruby had caught Vincent Vallejo, psychology professor and the man responsible for 13 murders, including one FBI agent. He was behind bars, away from the general public where he couldn't personally get his hands on anyone else. But if Vincent Vallejo was truly harmless now, they wouldn’t even be standing in front of this new headstone, the polished rock easy to care for. Vallejo may have been behind bars, but his influence certainly couldn’t be contained, his fans carrying out his deeds for him. 

Like vandalizing graves. 

He got us, Ruby replied, turning away from the etched letters, the span of years between birth and death too short. Asher Carnes, beloved son. 

Would she have taken that name? How long would it have taken to get used to the ring of it? Or a ring on her finger?

Stupid to think of the possibilities now that there was no possibility. 

She’d been so consumed with tracking down Vallejo that Ruby struggled to grasp those old, warm memories of Asher, like it had happened in a different lifetime. Without him to temper her drive, she was like a train barreling down the track with no brakes. Catching Vallejo was her train crash, every messy, shrapnel-laden part of it. 

Too shattered. 

She came to see the new headstone because people expected her to be there. Ruby couldn’t come on her own, alone with a rock, just a reminder that Asher was underground and she was above it. They hadn’t caught Vallejo fast enough. They hadn’t prevented the crime. So now Asher got visitors a few times a year; meanwhile being in prison had made Vincent Vallejo somehow more accessible to his sick fans. They wrote him letters, requested visitation, and wrote articles about him and his Bundy-esque charisma.

Everyone misses him, Jocelyn said, but we miss you, too. 

Ruby bit back a laugh. Not everyone missed her. The director certainly didn’t, not with the bureaucratic nightmare she’d left in her wake. Who wanted an untethered loose cannon with too much simmering rage and no one but bad guys to take it out on? Not the man who had to handle the aftermath. 

They all pretended her little break from the BAU was some kind of self-care retreat instead of a punishment, a threat. Next time, do it by the book or else the next leave of absence will be a permanent one. 

I don’t know if that’s enough, Joce, Ruby replied. 

Before Joce could argue, the deputy director, Warren Bellisario, sauntered up to them, offering Jocelyn an apologetic smile. 

Do you mind if I interrupt? he asked. 

Bellisario hadn’t been a field agent for ages, but he didn’t have the same bureaucratic air about him that so many people in management did. He may have switched to patent leather shoes and a suit, but his office wardrobe didn’t mask his sturdy, capable build. His hair grayed around his temples and, that morning in particular, he appeared world-weary and tired, but he was professional as always. 

Jocelyn nodded, retreating back to the agents. Ruby’s chest tightened at the separation, the clear divide between them and her. 

Bellisario gave one last glance back at the group before resting a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. 

Could I get you a coffee? he asked. 

Ruby braced herself for a lecture or more unwelcome concern but nodded. 

Good, Bellisario said, we should talk.

CHAPTER TWO

Bellisario ushered Ruby to a table in the back of a hip independent coffee shop. It had that quaint charm of DIY art and mismatched chairs. Compared to the cemetery, it was welcoming and cozy, the perfect place to get out of the cold, but Ruby wasn’t ready to be warmed over. She and Bellisario looked sorely out of place, Bellisario with his clean-cut appearance and Ruby dressed all in black with her blonde hair pulled tightly back into an austere bun.

The coffee shop was meant for relaxed artists and liberal arts students, not for people like them.

You wanted to talk? Ruby said, settling into a bentwood chair across from him. She toyed with the lid of her coffee cup. Facing him like this felt too much like an interrogation with her on the wrong side. 

I have something I think might be good for you, Bellisario said tentatively, if you’re up for it.

Some healthy coping mechanisms? Ruby asked. Bikram yoga?

As if sweating in a sports bra would bring her inner peace.

Bellisario offered her a tight smile. 

Not quite what I had in mind, he said. 

Bellisario brought out a file folder, the familiar FBI confidential stamp on it. His gaze flicked briefly around the café, his shoulders hunching in the lack of privacy. Ruby mirrored him instinctively.

Instead of flipping open the whole folder, Bellisario slid a crime scene photo across the table. 

Ruby’s eyes roved over it.

Crime scene photos should have unsettled her more than they did. She automatically began analyzing it, picking out the details gathered in the photos. The photo was of a woman, early twenties most likely, probably out on a weekend. She counted out the entry wounds, the individual penetrating injuries of a knife puncture.

Thirteen. 

Ruby reeled with déjà vu, understanding why Bellisario had gone so far as to corner her at Asher’s grave to bring this up. They were like Ruby’s personal version of a gruesome constellation, a pattern that had its own mythology. 

Lucky Thirteen, she said, like Vallejo’s first victim.

She recognized the pattern instantly. Ruby had poured obsessively over every detail of Vallejo’s patterns and methods. His case took over her entire life for a while.

That’s not all.

Bellisario slid a second photo to her, the location different, the victim dressed in a skirt and cropped top instead of a dress. If the photos had been taken from the medical examiner’s table instead of the crime scene, Ruby might have had a difficult time telling them apart. 

"She