Patricia Mccormick Books Novels & Stories

Marcus waited until the house was silent before he moved. The night had settled down to ominous silence, the silence of the heavy rather than the peaceful. Patricia was sitting in the sitting room, reading marriage notes scattered all over the table. She appeared to be composed and in order, like she was preparing a party rather than dictating on the future of her daughter. Marcus hung in the doorway a moment to get himself straight, since he was aware that once he opened his mouth, there was no going back

I said. She set the lunch down. "I owe Emma an apology." I looked up. "When she arrived I was skeptical. I was professional about it because that's my job but I made assumptions about her motives that weren't fair." Patricia stood with her hands folded in front of her, the posture she used when she'd prepared something. "I've been watching her for two months and I was wrong. She's not here for your money or your name and she never was." "I know that."

I stare out the window, watching the streets empty, the shops close, the night settle in like a blanket over a tired city. I think about Patricia. About the poison. About the letters my mother wrote in secret, hiding them in a Bible. About the sisters who hid for decades, changing their names, cutting their hair, living in fear. About the housekeeper who finally decided to speak, her hands shaking, her voice cracking. Patricia built a fortress of lies. She thought she was untouchable. She thought money and power could protect her from the truth. But the truth has a way of surfacing. It seeps through cracks. It finds light in the darkest places. It waits.

"Patricia, I need to know the truth. Were you working for Blake?" Patricia looked at Matthew and Dr. Harrison. Then she looked back at me. "Yes. I was working for Blake." "Why?" "He paid me fifty thousand dollars to find you." "And what were you supposed to do when you found me?" "Bring you back to him." "By force….If necessary." I studied her face. She looked sad. Tired. "Patricia, on the plane you told me something different. You said you were working with Dr. Harrison. You said this was all a plan to fake my death and get me to Switzerland for treatment."

a voice rang out, unmistakable in its biting tone. I turned to see Patricia, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the armrest of her chair. She had that effortless grace some people never lose, even when their insides are rotten. Once a famous model, she was now a cautionary tale of indulgence turned bitter. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to her body, and she blamed everyone but herself for the change. Patricia had taken a liking to making me her personal target. Whether it was because I reminded her of her past or because she thought I was an easy victim, I didn’t know. What I did know was that today was going to be no different.

Patricia sat quietly in her office. The thought of Adam having a secret Affair with Camilla hit her mind. She couldn't believe it, but Adam was closer to Keisha and Carmilla than his own family. It can't be a coincidence, she thought. She was Deep in her thoughts such that she didn't hear the tap on the door. She lifted her eyes the moment the door opened. It was her secretary. " Ma'am, sorry I had to come in since you couldn't respond. Patricia Frowned, she hated it when someone interrupts her thoughts.

Now it felt like something else. I had met Patricia several times at charity events. We moved in overlapping social circles through various foundations and fundraising galas. She always seemed polished and professional, but there was something slightly off about her. A nervousness beneath the confidence. Eyes that never quite held contact long enough. I arranged to meet her socially. Nothing obvious or confrontational. Just two women supporting the same children's hospital foundation at a luncheon event. "Beverly, how lovely to see you," Patricia said when I approached her table. Her smile was perfect but her hands fidgeted with her napkin. "How is Four doing with everything?"

' Charlie sighed, thinking it might be time to discuss this with Max, and hoped Jared and Nicole would agree. Meanwhile, Patricia returned to her apartment. The moment she closed her door, all her pretenses collapsed. She didn't bother turning on the lights, just sat on the couch in the dark, feeling completely drained. She sat there silently until daylight broke. Knock, knock, knock. Someone was at her door. After a moment, Patricia slowly turned her head toward it. Frowning, she finally got up to open the door when the knocking persisted. Expecting Seth, Patricia was shocked to see Nicole. "Ms. Riddle, why are you here?!"

Patricia added, pouting in feigned sympathy. "What did you do, Pat?" Marcella asked, intrigued. She shrugged innocently and smiled. "Did what any good citizen would do—gathered evidence against her and handed it over to the police. The next day, the prison became her new home. Now, onto the second one," Patricia paused, taking a meatball into her mouth and chewing it slowly before continuing. "She was really pretty, damn pretty, but I killed her." Patricia sighed sadly, her eyes fixed on her food as she toyed with it using her fork.

I squeezed his hand gently, giving him a look that said stay still. He froze, his wide eyes watching me anxiously. When I turned to face the two women, Patricia Allen’s memories made them recognizable almost immediately. Sarah and Karen, Patricia Allen’s neighbors and so-called “friends.” Women who spent their days gossiping and spreading rumors about everyone in the building and pretending it was advice. The former Patricia had always tried to impress them and had always listened to their “advice” on how to train children. Advice that the two women didn’t even follow themselves.