I realized Patricia was lying to me during her very first appointment. Not to say that she wasn’t a skilled liar because she is. She puts on quite the show. But I’m even more skilled at picking out the cues that somebody is untruthful. Like EJ, Patricia has a tell. When she’s going to lie, she crosses her right leg over her left.

I suspect the detective involved in the case knew she was lying as well. But it’s one thing to know it in your gut, and it’s another thing to prove it. Detective Gardner couldn’t prove that Patricia killed her fiancé and two of her closest friends. So she got away with it. Not only that, but she was praised as being the victim that got away.

But Patricia Lawton isn’t a victim. When she found out her best friend was cheating on her with her fiancé, she didn’t let either of them get away with it. Over the last three years, I have informally diagnosed her with antisocial personality disorder, based on her impaired empathy for other people, her aggressive and criminal behavior, as well as her history of lying and deception. Like many other people with antisocial personality disorder, Patricia is charming and attractive, with above-average intelligence. If she didn’t have that going for her, she might not have gotten away with it.

There have been several clues over the years to her diagnosis. When her grandmother died from a heart attack last year, she cried very convincing tears during our session, but she didn’t mention that she had been the one responsible for helping Grammy with her heart medications—I only found out when I called Mrs. Lawton to express my condolences. She also failed to mention the considerable estate she inherited. When I asked Patricia about it during her next session, she crossed her right leg over her left and told me how terrible she felt that she might have gotten her grandmother’s medications mixed up.

Mrs. Lawton was always a wealth of information about her daughter’s troubled history. Playmates with mysterious injuries. Pets that died suddenly. Poor Tricia has had such bad luck.

On some level, I’m sure Mrs. Lawton knows what her daughter is. She’s not a stupid woman. But denial is a powerful defense mechanism. I could hear the relief in her voice when she told me the stories—finally unburdening herself and passing the buck on to me.

And I knew exactly what to do with this information.

When I open the front door to greet Patricia, she doesn’t look happy. She’s tugging on the too-short hem of her skirt and glares at me under my porch lights. “He’s in the car.”

“Still passed out?”

“Yes. But he’s waking up.”

“Did you have any trouble?”

“No. It was easy.”