I am delighted to be today’s stop on the blog tour for; A Stranger’s Revenge by K. J. McGillick. This book sounds thrilling, I can’t wait to share it with you all, plus I have an exclusive excerpt to tempt you with. Firstly, thank you to Rachel at Rachel’s Random Resources for the invite tot this tour.

about the book

A Stranger’s Revenge by K. J. McGillick.

Genre: Thriller

When art law attorney Abigail Clarke is mistaken for the murdered twin sister she never knew existed, will she be able to outwit a man determined to kill every member of her treacherous family.

Thirty years ago, during a thunderstorm, on an isolated street in South Boston, an unidentified two-year-old girl was discovered, abandoned, shot, barely clinging to life. After a thorough investigation, the case was eventually designated to the cold case files until Abigail Clarke, now an astraphobic art law attorney, is mistaken for the murdered twin sister she never knew existed.

What the FBI Art Crime Division cannot determine is if Abigail is an innocent bystander or a co-conspirator in her sister’s art fraud crimes.

Compelled to uncover all her family’s secrets, nothing prepares Abigail for the disastrous meeting with her murderous brother and crime boss father. Her life is irreversibly changed the more she becomes mired in her family’s treachery. She soon finds herself drawn into a game of cat and mouse by the vengeful killer who methodically plans to execute every member of her family, holding each one of them ultimately responsible for the murder of his own family thirty years ago.

Purchase Links

UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/STRANGERS-REVENGE-K-J-McGillick-ebook/dp/B09PRSJZNJ

US – https://www.amazon.com/STRANGERS-REVENGE-K-J-McGillick-ebook/dp/B09PRSJZNJ

Book Excerpt

I cautiously entered the office suite with Gabriel and glanced toward Edna. Her eyes were cast down with her hands rested on her desk, and her shoulders hunched frontward. Was she trying to appear small and inconspicuous? Why was she so nervous? Hearing me step forward, her face softened with relief. She rose so quickly from her chair that it rolled back a few feet and slammed against the wall.

“Abigail, this gentleman says he is with the FBI,” she said, making eye contact with him and her voice not much above a whisper.

My eyes flashed his way on the couch. Taking in his dark suit, shiny shoes, serious expression, yes, definitely a federal agent. Edna had forewarned me of his presence, but it still did not stop the flutter in my stomach. A visit from the FBI always meant trouble. Which client was I going to fire for holding back secrets that would call for this type of unannounced visit? The more I thought about it, the more the list of suspects grew. The art world attracted people whose greed outpaced their common sense.

“Okay,” I enunciated slowly. I turned toward him and put my best lawyer mask on. “I am Abigail Clarke. How may I help you?”

He stood, studied me a little too long to be considered polite, and then flashed his credentials.

“My name is Robert McDermott; I am a special agent with the FBI Boston division. May I speak with you in private?” He glanced toward my office.

When the man identified himself as a federal agent, Gabriel visibly tensed, but he quickly regained his composure. Could this visit have something to do with the auction? No, that seemed unlikely. We had not even registered when we arrived at Shelby’s.

“Gabriel, this might take a while, and I don’t want to hold you up. Edna, please help Gabriel finish with his business. Thank you again for brunch.”

Without waiting for a response, I directed Agent McDermott to a seat at the conference table in my office.

“How may I help you?” Although a smile was on my face, the words came out shaky. “Is this about a client matter?”

Normally, when the FBI identified a client as a target of their investigation, they pre-arranged an interview appointment. He had not read me my rights, so I assumed this was not something about me.

“No. It’s a personal matter,” he said, and my shoulders relaxed. “Two nights ago, someone murdered a young woman in the South Boston area.”

A sense of relief washed over me. Then I took a moment to make certain he did not intend to add more information.

“That is always a tragedy, but what has that got to do with me?”

Agent McDermott reached into his briefcase and retrieved a thin, unmarked manila folder. He placed it on the table and splayed his fingers on top of it, so it remained unopened. A tad dramatic.

“Do you have any relatives in the Boston vicinity?” The way his eyebrows lifted slightly appeared as if he was challenging me to give the wrong answer.

“No, not that I am aware.” I tried to keep my voice level. “My family has lived in Maine for as long as I can remember. Why?”

He tapped the folder with his hand, drawing my attention to it, but not revealing its contents. Did he think I was lying to him?

“The detective could not find any identification on the victim, and there was no way to identify her at the scene. After the Boston Police ran her picture through some databases, they came up with a tentative ID. Your DMV photo popped up. How do you explain that?” he asked in what I could only construe as accusatory.

My mind blanked. I had no answer. “Me? Well, clearly there is some mistake as I am sitting right in front of you.”

Of course, he must be wrong. There had to be an alternative explanation. What did they say? Everyone has a twin somewhere. It was obviously just a misidentification.

“We rarely get things wrong at the FBI,” he argued.

Was he waiting for me to explain how they made the mistake?

“Is the victim’s picture in the folder?” I asked. He nodded. “I would like to see it.”

Agent McDermott moved his chair, so it was next to mine, and opened the folder. On top of the small pile appeared to be a photo of only a face. He removed it, closed the file, and placed the picture on top of it. It looked like the woman was sleeping or… no… dead. “Look away,” my brain instructed, but I could not.

Despite the mask-like quality of her face, I pictured this woman alive. That is because I knew that face all too well. It stared back at me every day in my mirror. Red hair, freckles, pale skin. I traced her lips with my finger and looked up at Agent McDermott for an explanation.

“Who is this?” I whispered, trying to catch my breath.

“Until five minutes ago, I was certain it was you. The purpose of my visit was to notify your next of kin of your death. I came here to determine why you were in South Boston and start putting together a list of suspects who would want to harm you. Now, it is obvious this person is not you. But a remarkably close, intimate family member. You say you have no relatives in the area?” There was that challenge in his voice again.

About the author

Kathleen McGillick is an attorney by education and writes mainly suspense and thriller novels.

She earned a B.S.N. from the University of Miami, and an M.S. from Adelphi University, after which she practiced nursing for seventeen years. In 1994, while working as a Registered Nurse, she earned a Juris Doctorate from the John Marshall School of Law in Atlanta, Georgia. Her solo law practice in which she specialized in Family Law for twenty-seven years, centered on meeting the needs of women and children.

While practicing law, she turned to novel writing and has self-published ten novels that have recurring themes of legal intrigue and stolen art. As an avid international traveler, she incorporates many of the places she has traveled into the settings of her books. For the last fifteen years, she has immersed herself in the study of art history and the intrigue of crimes related to fakes and forgeries which she weaves into her character-driven complex plots.

Born and raised in New York, she now resides in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia. Kathleen is a grandmother of two teenage grandchildren and a mother to four fur babies.

Social Media Links –

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KJMcGillickauthor/

Website: http://www.kjmcgillick.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KJMcGillickAuth

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/kmcgillick


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