A Killer's Cell

A merciless killer broadcasts his horrifying murders on every news station, creating a wave of terror. Can they catch him before his sinister water torture chamber claims more lives?

Special Agent Aidan O’Reilly, accustomed to facing the darkest of criminals, finds himself in the throes of an intense, high-stakes investigation. His commitment to justice is unwavering, but the emergence of a calculating killer puts everything he stands for to the test.

With five lives terminated by the hooded madman, Agent O’Reilly leaves no stone unturned in his hunt for the killer. But the investigation soon leads him toward a path of someone more sinister and it’s a door he can’t keep open.

Will he put the pieces of the puzzle together and unmask the killer or go after someone else?

The third installment of The O’Reilly Files brings you a taut storyline, devious killer, and a heart-racing conclusion.

Don’t miss Special Agent O’Reilly’s latest investigation! Buy now to escape the torturous water cell chamber!

1

The frost in the air nipped at FBI Special Agent Aidan O’Reilly’s skin as he hopped down from the back of the Federal van, his service weapon at the ready. He scanned his surroundings, his eyes slowly breaking through the darkness.

A lone shack stood in the middle of nowhere. By the looks of it, no one had used it for quite some time. Dark stains ran down the siding and the windows on either side were broken. One hefty gust of wind, and the roof would cave in.

A wooden fence that once enclosed the space now stood in broken pieces, and the gate barely held on its hinge. The overgrown grasses were as tall as the remaining boards in places, making it difficult to move.

Aidan’s first thought was it looked like a scene from a horror movie just before something bad happened.

He worried that his intuition was correct. That something bad would happen.

A cold November breeze pushed through the thick air. Even though Aidan wore thick gloves, his hands shivered.

“It’s quiet.”

Aidan noted the concerned tone in Shaun Henderson’s voice. His partner and friend heaved a long, heavy sigh and Aidan nodded in agreement.

It was too quiet, he decided.

Another chill crawled up his spine, and he knew this time it wasn’t because of the cold Augusta autumn.

The video, which had appeared on television to millions across the nation, still reverberated in his mind... the flashes of the woman trapped inside her makeshift glass water tomb, her hands and feet handcuffed behind her back. She had a breathing apparatus attached to her face, a timer, the ever-taunting timer, counting down from an hour and three minutes. Each number slowly going down until it reached zero when her air would run out.

Aidan knew, unless she could beat the odds, she’d drown.

Craning his neck around Shaun’s large arm, Aidan watched as the clock on his friend’s cell phone ticked down to five seconds.

Shaun released a soft curse underneath his breath. “We’re out of time. I sure hope we’re at the right place.”

“Let’s move in,” Aidan said. The knot in his stomach tightened as he feared the worse.

They’d already spent enough time to pinpoint the location where the sadistic killer held the woman captive, only to find the first three buildings were mere decoys. Somehow, the killer, skilled in technology, had made the video pings jump around in a ten-mile radius, taunting the police while they searched for the fourth victim in five months’ time.

While an array of armed agents spread the vicinity, Aidan walked toward the door. Shaun followed close behind.

Aidan’s blood pulsed in his ear as he glanced around, observing every movement, listening to every sound. But he heard nothing other than chirping insects in the still night.

At the front of the old building, he waited for the agents to finish scouting the area, then gave the all-clear signal. Aidan pulled in a sharp breath as he opened the door. It wasn’t heavy, but it scraped against the ground, shoving dirt and debris aside.

Darkness greeted him.

Still, he could make out the outline of a box in the center of the room.

Aidan pulled out his mag light and clicked the button to illuminate the large open space, revealing a large glass tank.

A woman immersed in water hung loosely, listless. Her fiery red hair fanned around her and the cord of the breathing apparatus danced slowly amidst the clear liquid, like a swimming snake.

Aidan knew that whoever entombed her didn’t set any other device to go off, but still, it wouldn’t be the first time a killer had surprised them. That thought in mind, he trod carefully and silently, searching for any movement in the darkness.

“I’ve got a switch.”

“Hold on a—”

Before Shaun could finish his thoughts, the room overflowed with light. When nothing more happened, he breathed a sigh of relief before glaring back at the agent, who took it upon himself to flick the switch.

“Rookies.”

“It’s clear,” Aidan said, his own heart thrumming hard in his ears. He slipped his weapon in the back of his pants as he rushed to the glass tank.

It was a handmade Chinese Water Torture Cell, a device first used by Harry Houdini in the early 1900s. For whatever reason, the killer had chosen this device as his means of death.

From what Aidan could tell, the tank was air tight with a latch on the top. There was no way the woman could escape. And hopefully, at most, she was unconscious and not dead.

But there was still a chance. Aiden refused to believe differently.

“Watch yourself,” Shaun said, gripping his mag light tight in his hand.

Aidan stepped back, nodding for Shaun to go ahead.

His partner swung his arm, breaking the glass on the first try.

The water spit the victim out and Aidan rushed to her, turning her to her back.

“Careful now.” Shaun reached Aidan’s side. “You’ve got her?”

“Yeah.” Aidan brushed her hair from her face. He lowered his head to her chest.

Nothing.

Positioning his hands over her ribs, he pressed down hard, three times, paused, then again.

The emergency medical technicians arrived, setting their supplies on the ground. After they moved the victim away from the water, they took the portable paddles and tried reviving her heart.

Aidan glanced at his watch, noting the team had been hard at work for almost three minutes. Finally, one of the EMTs looked at his coworker, then at the agents.

“She’s gone,” he said.

Aidan cursed, then rubbed his face with his hands.

“Look.” Shaun kneeled to unclench the woman’s hand. He gazed at the playing card, then passed it to Aidan.

“WTC,” Aidan read, taking the evidence. “Water Torture Cell. She makes victim number five.”

Unbelievable. How could he not be used to this by now? Used to hunting an unnamed killer without a lead or motive in sight? How could he not be used to reaching a victim moments after they lose their lives?

He stepped back to let the coroner’s team do their job.

Aidan walked to the cell that had contained her, inspecting the wood. It was smaller than he’d imagined a water torture cell would be when magic was involved, but still large enough to hold a human body.

The image of seeing her struggling and the inability of not being able to do anything about it took hold of his insides. Aidan closed his eyes, willing for the pictures of her torture to leave him.

“What now?” he asked his partner, though he already knew the answer.

“Now we go talk to her family.”

“I hate that part,” Aidan said, knowing he sounded like a broken record.

“Me too.”

“I suppose we should get it over with,” Aidan said.

“Yeah,” Shaun said.

Even though they agreed, both men stood in their places, watching as their team searched the shack, dusted for fingerprints, and collected any evidence they could find.

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