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A Killer's Mark

A Killer's Mark

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A killer from his past threatens his future. Will a decade-long chase end in justice or disaster?

Main Tropes

  • Taunting Messages
  • Killer's Perspective
  • Cat and Mouse
  • FBI
  • Serial Killer
  • Cold Case


A killer from his past threatens his future. Will a decade-long chase end in justice or disaster?

Special Agent Aidan O’Reilly is haunted by the one that got away. And even after another year of silence, he still can’t shake his failure to nail the sociopathic madman responsible for over fifty shocking murders. But his guilt becomes a shot at redemption when the murderer returns, naming the detective in a personal note pinned to a fresh kill. With meticulously clean crime scenes and a nosy reporter on the loose, O’Reilly and his new partner scramble to uncover the next target’s location. But when the psychotic fiend strikes close to the embattled FBI man’s home, O’Reilly is up against a clock counting down to a very intimate death.

Can he catch the infamous butcher before the body count rises?

A Killer's Mark is the pulse-pounding first novel in the O’Reilly Files serial killer thriller series. If you like strong protagonists, wild twists and turns, and powerful reveals, then you’ll love Angela Kay’s adrenaline-laced story.

Buy A Killer's Mark to stop the slaughter today!

Intro to Ch. 1


Lieutenant Jim DeLong stepped over the dew-laden grass, his boots leaving a trail of disturbed droplets in his wake. As he approached, the stillness of the scene before him seemed almost surreal—a stark contrast to the chaos of the arriving police and forensic teams.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the solitary figure lying by the water's edge. A woman, her body positioned with an eerie serenity, lay as if gazing up at the breaking dawn. Her arms were folded across a black dress that seemed to absorb the morning light, and in her hands, a bouquet of white carnations stark against the dark fabric. But the peacefulness was a lie. As DeLong drew closer, the grim details became apparent—the unnatural angle of her neck, the two puncture wounds marring her skin, and the dried blood tracing a path from a deep cut.

The world seemed to hush around him as he kneeled by her side, the reality of her final moments written in the bruises and desperate scratches on her arms and the blood beneath her broken fingernails. It wasn't just the brutality of her death that unsettled him; it was the calculated placement of an envelope, a silent sentinel against the white of the carnations, bearing a name that would draw him deeper into the mystery: FBI Special Agent Aidan O’Reilly.

As the lieutenant contemplated the scene, the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, casting a mournful glow over the woman's final resting place. DeLong felt a familiar tug at the edge of his consciousness—a mixture of resolve and dread. Another life taken, another story ended too soon, and another puzzle to piece together in the hope of finding justice in a seemingly unjust world.

With his gloved hand, he took the envelope, staring at the letters on the front. But he didn’t open it. Instead, he passed it over to a nearby officer with instructions to contact the FBI Resident Agency. Although he wasn’t familiar with anyone in the bureau, he trusted they would locate the named agent.

As DeLong wondered if this woman meant anything to the FBI agent, he took notice of one of his men interviewing the teen-aged couple who’d reported the crime. Scattered in the distance of the waters, divers searched beneath Clarks Hill Lake, and the rest of the team scoured the surrounding area for evidence. So far, they had found none.

DeLong’s frown deepened as the medical examiner rose, having completed her initial examination of the deceased.

“From what I can tell, and based on the body temp,” she said, removing her latex gloves, “she’s been dead for about six or seven hours. I’ll have a better idea once I do a proper autopsy. I’d have to say the cause of death was strangulation by a thin wire of some sort.”

As she spoke, the officer who had contacted the FBI stepped next to him. His face was stoic and professional, betraying no sign that the brutal crime scene affected him. Without uttering a ‘thank you,’ he ended the call, clipping the cell phone on his belt.

“Sir, I spoke to Assistant Special Agent-In-Charge Tara Monroe myself.” He glanced at his notepad as he recited the name. “She’s dispensing agents to the site. We’re not to move the body until they’ve arrived.”

The lieutenant’s interest in the investigation continued to peak. He arched a brow. “Did she give you details we may need to be aware of?”

“No, sir.”

DeLong smiled to himself. Of course not. The FBI had their own way of doing things.

The lieutenant switched his attention to the medical examiner with a single nod. “You heard the man. But once she’s released to you, she’s your priority.”


He stepped over to where the teen-aged couple stood. As he neared, he noted the young man saying, “Can’t believe I actually found a dead body.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” the girl said, a shiver in her words. The light wind bristled through her brown hair, sweeping a strand in her eyes. With a frown, she brushed it aside and hugged herself. “It’s so awful.”

“This is just like watching a TV show, isn’t it?” The boy scoffed, his gaze lingering on the body.

“This isn’t a joke,” DeLong said. “A young woman’s dead.”

The boy swallowed hard, his gaze settling uneasily on the lieutenant. “I didn’t mean—I was just saying—”

DeLong ignored him with a wave of his hand and looked at the officer. “What did you get?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” the officer said. “They planned on spending the day here, but found her instead.”

“Are you going to arrest us?” the boy asked.

“No,” DeLong said. “Thank you for calling it in. You’re free to go home, but the feds may need to speak with you later.”

“Let’s get out of here.” The girl, tugging at her boyfriend's hand, led him away from the scene." He followed with reluctance, his eyes glued to the body by the water.

DeLong said, “All right, men.” His officers looked his way, giving him their full attention. “When the FBI arrives, I want us to be as cooperative as possible. Understood?”

His men muttered their agreement.

DeLong returned to where the body rested. She had no ID on her, nothing to give him a clue of where she belonged. What was her name? Who were her family? Noticing the wedding band on her finger, he wondered if she and her husband had children.

“It’s tragic,” one of his sergeants said, standing next to him.

DeLong didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. During the years he’d spent as a police officer, he’d seen unimaginable things.

And he knew it wouldn’t be his last.

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