He nodded and leaned against the counter, hooking his thumbs in his front pockets. “I’m sorry I acted like a jerk.”

Preparing herself to prove her point, she moistened her lips and lifted her jaw. “Cull, I know you might not believe me, but I’m not Monica. Sure, that’s the only name I can call myself, but you must believe me.”

“I do,” he said without hesitation.

“I know it doesn’t make se—” She widened her eyes. “Wait. Did you say you do believe me?” Had she heard right or what she wanted to hear?

“Yes, I believe you. It’s not that I didn’t last night, but it all caught me off guard.”

“What made you come to this conclusion?”

“Let’s have a seat, okay?” He took her hand into his larger one and he led her to the table, pulled out a chair and when she took the seat, he went around to grab his own.

“You know, we have to quit having conversations where you have me biting nails.” She swiped her floury hands down her jeaned thighs. Her nerves were taking control.

“Monica Warren was found last night.”

She smiled. “Great! Then we can figure out most of the missing pieces to this puzzle.” Seeing his grave expression, she frowned. “What?”

“She’s dead.”

She heard the heaviness in his voice that matched her own in her chest. “Oh no. Who did this? It was the same man that tried to kill me, wasn’t it?” Although this proved that she wasn’t Monica, it opened more questions. She didn’t know the woman, but in many ways, they’d shared a part of one another. “So, this means that I’m no longer wanted for questioning, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m no longer in danger?”

“Not quite.”

Her hopes dashed. “But I’m not Monica so the killer would have no reason to still want to come after me.”

“He would if he thinks that you can identify him.” He blew a long breath out of the corner of his mouth. “You’re getting your memory back, bit by bit. Eventually I think you could point him out of a line up.”

“I don’t know, Cull. It might never all come back, but if this man is never found, I’ll never be able to live my life. I’ll never be able to live a normal life.”

He reached out and took her hand, weaving their fingers. “I won’t let anything happen to you, not like I did the real Monica.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He let go of her hand. “I thought you were her. If I’d known, I would have found her and saved her, maybe even caught the killer. Somehow I think I set the wolves on her heels.”

She resisted the urge to cup his cheek, wanting to comfort him. “How so? He’s a killer, Cull. A killer can’t be controlled.”

He shrugged and his black T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. “It’s only a matter of time and he’ll be caught.”

“Now the big question, who am I?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Why don’t you two go and enjoy the afternoon.” Beatrice patted Cull’s shoulder when she stepped into the kitchen. “It’s too lovely of a day to spend surrounded by four walls. I’ll take care of the pie.”

“I can’t leave you with a mess,” Monica said.

“Ah, you will do me the favor by getting my boy out of this house and doing something besides fighting crime.” Beatrice smiled. “Take her out and show her the property, son.”

He snapped up a brow. “I’m a halfway decent tour guide if you’re interested?’

“Okay, if you don’t mind waiting while I wash the flour off my face.”

“I’ll meet you outside.”