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

Author:Molly Black [Black, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2022-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

113 Crestview Road existed on the thinning edge of population density, where neighbors wouldn't see exactly what went on there. Even on the property, foliage partially obscured the house from the driveway. There were plenty of places to hide.

Ruby climbed out of the SUV, eyes roving for movement, activity, some kind of sign of human life.

“No vehicles,” Gabe observed, getting out himself, a hand looming close to his gun.

“Working late, maybe,” Ruby offered. Maybe it had been wrong to seek him out here. It had been a choice between his home and his workplace, but the dusk certainly felt like after-hours.

“Licking his wounds after getting chased out of Pearl's party,” Gabe countered, “or laying low.”

Whatever the reason, the property appeared vacant. The house was dark. It was an older home, not run-down but definitely very private. Almost remote. Good for putting up appearances.

“You think he's here?” Ruby asked. Her attention went to the sides of buildings, searching for possible security cameras. He might've already known they were there.

Gabe didn't answer, instead going up to the front door, rapping hard on the door a few times.

At least this time, there were no screaming women inside. There was no response at all. Somehow, that still set Ruby on edge. Every muscle in her body tensed for something to happen.

Gabe jingled the door handle. It was locked.

The house clearly wasn't giving them anything, but there were other buildings. There was a garden shed, and a detached garage. A dim light appeared to shine under the garage door.

Cautiously, Ruby moved toward it.

Something caught her eye on the driveway, leading up to the garage. Red droplets in the gravel.

“Might have some blood over here,” Ruby called out.

“Pig or human?” Gabe replied.

Glib or not, Gabe came down off the porch to the gravel pad.

Ruby's fingertips brushed against her gun, as if she was reminding herself it was there.

She pressed a finger to her lips, following the red droplets in the dirt. She gestured Gabe to move closer.

The trail led up to the garage.

There, outside the main door on the side of the garage, was a footprint, identical to the tread found in Pearl's house.

Ruby shot Gabe a silent look.

“Looks like justification to me,” Gabe said. Ruby nodded.

Gabe took that as her go ahead, kicking down the door in what Ruby could only describe as releasing all the frustration of a day full of sifting through witness accounts.

“What the hell...” he said, staring into the garage.

Ruby's breath caught in her throat.

The glow from the garage came from a whole church's worth of candles, burning around a wall plastered in celebrity photos cut out of magazines. There were dozens of them, the edges overlapping, so many crammed in a small space.

“Those look like the victims, right? It's not just me?” Gabe asked.

There were distinct red-heads like Pearl, women in similar outfits to the clubbing dress Alannah wore, women with heavy, dark bangs like Vanessa.

“Yeah,” Ruby replied, still staring at the wall of photographs. “They all look like the victims.

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