Synopsis – Contagion of Lies
Former prosecutor Jordan Monroe thought estate law was safe. Then her mentor dies, leaving her to defend Dr. Mallory James in a double-murder case that could resurrect her career—or destroy what’s left of it.
Dr. Ian Stratton, a respected Harbor Point surgeon, and his pharmaceutical-rep mistress are dead from lethal injections. The evidence points straight to Mallory: a volatile affair, public threats, and a mountain of motive. But as Jordan builds her defense, she uncovers something bigger—a hospital drowning in secrets, cover-ups, and dangerous enemies.
Inside Harbor Medical, three shadowy suspects emerge:
- Dr. Blake Rowe — Stratton’s betrayed best friend with deadly drug knowledge
- Evelyn Grant — a disgraced tech stalking Jordan’s niece
- Sarah Rowe — Blake’s wife, lying about her access to the victim
When Grant’s obsession turns violent and surveillance evidence leaks, Jordan must protect her family while fighting manipulated witnesses, missing evidence, and a system built to bury the truth. The deeper she digs, the more she questions Mallory’s innocence—and her own role in defending her.
In a world where everyone lies, Jordan must decide how far she’ll go to win. Because the most dangerous predator… is the one you never see coming.
Perfect for fans of John Grisham, Lisa Gardner, and Melinda Leigh, Contagion of Lies delivers a relentless legal thriller where courtroom drama collides with psychological suspense—and every decision carries a cost.
Author Bio
From the bustling courtrooms of Atlanta to the vibrant tapestry of 16th-century England, Kathleen McGillick’s life and career have been a captivating blend of legal expertise, artistic passion, and a thirst for adventure.
Fueled by an undergraduate and graduate degree in nursing, Kathleen built a foundation of compassion and care. This dedication to service later led her to pursue a Juris Doctorate, allowing her to navigate the intricacies of the legal system for nearly three decades. Her courtroom experience now breathes life into the intricate details of her legal thrillers, ensuring every courtroom scene crackles with authenticity.
But Kathleen’s story does not end there. A deep fascination with art history led her to delve into the world of renowned artists and captivating eras. Her particular passion for 16th-century British history allows her to transport readers to richly detailed historical settings, immersing them in the culture, politics, and societal nuances of the time.
Driven by an unwavering dedication to her craft, Kathleen has independently published twelve thrillers since 2018. Her commitment extends beyond solo creation, as she actively engages with the writing community, honing her skills through workshops and courses led by renowned authors.
And when she’s not crafting captivating narratives, Kathleen embarks on international journeys, soaking in diverse cultures and experiences that further enrich her writing. This global perspective adds another layer of depth and realism to her stories, allowing readers to connect with characters and settings that transcend geographical boundaries.
Author Guest Post
Truth on Trial: How I Write a Courtroom Mystery
Every courtroom I write is a stage — polished wood, cold air, and the hum of tension you can feel in your teeth. To me, a trial isn’t about guilt or innocence. It’s a moral battleground where intellect, instinct, and justice collide.
When I write a courtroom mystery, I’m not recreating procedure; I’m orchestrating pressure. Every question, every silence, every flicker of doubt is a test — not just for the characters, but for the reader sitting in the jury box of their own imagination.
Here’s how I build that experience.
1. I Begin With the Lie Everyone Believes
Every mystery starts with a lie, and in a courtroom story, that lie has hardened into “official truth.” A defendant is charged, a narrative accepted, and everyone — prosecution, defense, judge, and reader — begins by believing it.
My job is to thread doubt through that certainty. I ask, What version of the truth does everyone accept, and why? Then I build the story around dismantling it, piece by piece.
Sometimes the defense attorney believes their client is innocent; sometimes they don’t. The tension grows from watching certainty erode — because in a courtroom, doubt is both weapon and salvation.
2. I Treat the Law as a Character
In my courtroom mysteries, the law isn’t background — it’s a character: rigid, flawed, and unyielding.
When I write trial scenes, I focus less on legal jargon and more on what the law feels like — heavy, procedural, occasionally merciless. Research gives me structure — objections, evidence, witness prep — but emotion gives it breath.
The law becomes a living force, capable of protecting the innocent or crushing them under the same rules.
3. I Treat Every Question as a Trap
Cross-examination scenes are duels disguised as dialogue. Every question is bait. Every answer risks exposure.
I imagine the courtroom like a chessboard: one lawyer advancing, the other retreating, the witness caught in the crossfire. I listen for the rhythm — the rising tempo as truth closes in.
And I leave room for silence. The moment before a witness answers, the stillness after a revelation — those pauses carry more power than any speech.
4. I Build Mysteries That Survive the Verdict
The best courtroom mysteries don’t end with the verdict; they begin there.
When I reach the final gavel, I ask: What happens now? Maybe justice is served on paper, but something deeper remains unsettled. The law has done its job, yet something vital slipped through the cracks.
That unease is the residue of truth. A perfect ending isn’t tidy — it’s ambiguous. Maybe justice prevailed. Maybe it was just well-argued.
5. I Anchor the Drama in Emotion, Not Evidence
Facts drive the trial, but feelings drive the story.
The courtroom is emotional theatre: fear, pride, guilt, ambition — all performing under oath. I focus on micro-expressions: the prosecutor’s jaw tightening, the witness’s trembling hand, the defense attorney’s exhaustion masquerading as poise.
Even when the case revolves around technical details, I return to one question: Who stands to lose the most if the truth comes out?
When that answer shifts — when the reader’s sympathy tilts from one side to another — the story comes alive.
6. I Remember the Reader Is the Jury
Ultimately, my reader is the thirteenth juror. They weigh testimony, scrutinize motives, and pass judgment with every page.
That’s why I reveal evidence gradually, as it would surface under questioning. I tighten focus — a document that changes meaning, a witness who falters, a lawyer who suddenly knows too much.
Each revelation forces the reader to deliberate. By the end, I want them to feel complicit — as if their verdict could change the outcome.
The Final Verdict
Writing a courtroom mystery isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about confronting the reader with the gray between truth and justice. Trials, for me, are moral crucibles — places where humanity shows its best logic and its worst instincts in the same breath.
If I can make readers question not only who did it but what justice even means, then I’ve earned my verdict.
Because in my courtroom, the real trial is always for the truth itself — and the jury never walks away unchanged.
