THE SOUND OF his phone vibrating woke Cull. He jumped up from the too small couch, feeling aches all over his body as he reached for the intrusion. “Yeah...Okay…I’ll be there in an hour.” He hung up with Deke and darted a glance toward the closed door to the bedroom. Monica was really mad at him. Could he blame her? He’d basically told her what she feared. That he believed she was a dangerous woman, but that wasn’t true. He’d only been caught off guard. This was all a confusing mess.
Dialing another number, Kiersten’s voicemail picked up. “Hey, I have to go into Cheyenne. Keep an eye on Monica for me.” He clicked off and dropped the phone into his pocket. Thankfully he had a clean shirt and boots in his truck. If he dared walk into the bedroom, he was certain she would shove his size thirteens up his ass.
He certainly wasn’t in a good mood when he walked into the precinct later that morning.
“What the fuck is that sour look about?” Deke waved at Cull from down the wide hallway.
“Don’t ask,” he growled. He gave his buddy a once over. “You look like shit. Did you have the flu?”
“Hell yeah. It kicked my butt. I’ve got news for you.” The detective stepped into his office and pointed at the chair in front of the desk. “Take a load off, my friend.”
Even though he didn’t feel like sitting because he had restless energy, he dropped into the chair anyway. “You said you needed to see me.”
Deke dropped a folder on the desk in front of Cull. “Take a look.”
Reluctantly, he opened the folder. “Who’s the dead girl?”
“You’re looking at Monica Warren. She was found in some brush by a jogger early this morning. We used her prints to identify her.”
Swallowing hard, Cull leaned back into the cushion of the vinyl, trying to keep a straight face, which wasn’t the easiest for many reasons. “Are you sure it’s her?”
“Yeah, we’re sure. She was positively identified, and you’ll never believe how she was killed.” He steepled his fingers and looked at Cull over the tips.
“Strangulation?”
“With a piano wire.”
With a tight chest, Cull slid the top picture off and looked at the next. Guilt pounded through him. Not just because he’d made Monica—or whoever she was, feel like shit because he hadn’t been truly sure her memory was correct, but also for the real Monica who was now dead because he’d fucked up. If he’d found her, and he knew he would have if he’d been looking for her, she wouldn’t be dead now. So, he’d screwed up double. Although her lifestyle didn’t put her safety as top priority, she didn’t deserve to die.
“Sorry about the reward, buddy. I guess next time.” Deke closed the folder.
“Damn. If I’d only found her.” He rubbed his eyebrows.
“Hell, man, you can’t blame yourself on this one. You’ve been in this biz long enough to realize no matter how hard we try, we’ll never save everyone. And we’ll never solve every case.” He dragged the file back across the desk and tapped his fingers on the folder. “Move on to the next fugitive, my friend.”
“That’s it?”
Deke shrugged. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“I have a woman living at my apartment who I thought was Monica, but she’s not.”
“I’m confused, buddy. Did she lie to you and tell you her name is Monica?” Deke asked.
“She has memory loss—doesn’t remember anything. Not even the night of the fire.”
His brows scrunched. “Let me pull this together. You rescued a woman with memory loss who can’t remember one damn thing about the person who tried to kill her? All this time you thought she was this girl.” Deke stabbed the folder with his finger. “That’s a lot to absorb.”
“She’ll remember everything.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because each day she gets more of her memories back.”
Deke’s phone buzzed. He read the screen and sighed. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I have a meeting.”
Standing, Cull nodded. “You find anything more regarding this case, let me know, okay?”
Deke assured him he would.
Although it weighed heavily on him that a young girl was dead, he also felt a sense of relief because his Monica wasn’t a killer. He had no reason not to believe that her memory was correct. Thinking of her living on the street, in the elements, with no roof over her head triggered sensations in him that he’d never known. Because he cared for her, he wanted to protect her. Keep her safe. He needed to help her figure out who she was, and make sure the man who killed the girl wasn’t wanting to take his Monica out too.
Cull made his way into the bathroom and when he came out, he spotted Deke heading toward the elevator. He was exchanging angry words with someone on his phone and limping.
****
Monica rolled the dough out on the floured surface. “Like this?”
“Perfect. You have the golden touch.” Beatrice clicked her tongue. “I know you’ve been a little quiet today. Would you want to talk about it?”
Looking at the Cade matriarch, Monica tried to smile, but she guessed it was a crooked attempt to say the least. “How did you know that Bo was the one? You know, the one.”
Beatrice wiped her hands down her white apron and laughed. “Honey, I didn’t at first. We argued all the time, but I guess the making up made it all worthwhile.” She winked and continued peeling the green apples. “My kids inherited the Cade stubborn streak. Good thing that I’ve grown a thick skin over the years.”
“They all seem like great, honorable men and Kiersten is a bright, intelligent woman. You must be proud.” Monica transferred the crust to the pie plate just as Beatrice had shown her how to do.
“Oh, they are all amazing, but rowdy as one can imagine. Now that most of them have settled down, I rest easier at night. They don’t take as many chances as they once did.” She laid her knife down. “Your feelings for my boy are obvious.”
Monica blinked. “It is?”
“Sweetie, I’ve lived over six decades and have seen a lot. Knowing when a youngin’ is in love isn’t hard to spot.” She smiled widely.
“I might have feelings, but—”
“But what?”
“I don’t know if we can get over all the obstacles between us.” Feeling moisture in her eyes, Monica blinked them back.
Beatrice laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Honey, what makes you think you have any control when it comes to love? You might as well face the facts that when two people fall for each other they’ve lost control of the reins. Anything in the way will be worked out.”
Monica wanted to put her faith in the woman’s words, after all she had been married for over forty years, had six kids and seemed wise beyond her years, but there was a river of doubt flowing through Monica. After waking up during the night and having a huge void filled in her memory, she thought all other memories would follow, but they hadn’t which left her disappointed. Then waking up remembering the argument between her and Cull had made her even more frustrated.
She couldn’t deny that she wanted him, and she believed he wanted her too. She was torn between being responsible and following her heart that was jerking her around. Now that she knew she wasn’t the Monica Warren that was wanted for questioning, it was a huge relief, so then why wasn’t she happy? Because it didn’t answer the complete question of who she was. If she lived on the street as she’d realized last night, then she jumped from one frying pan into another.
What if her entire memory came back and she suddenly didn’t have the same feelings for Cull? What if she had buried secrets? Then it seemed best to keep her feelings in check and her hands off the hunky lawman.
When she awoke she had expected to see Cull, but instead Kiersten was in the apartment kitchen making breakfast. Apparently, Cull had been called away for business and had asked his sister to babysit Monica. Although Kiersten didn’t say those words, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.
“Oh darn! I forgot I must call Janie Sue today and tell her what to bring for the book club. You finish up that pie, sweetie, while I go make this call.” Beatrice hurried out of the kitchen.
She had just rolled out the second crust for the pie when she heard light footsteps behind her. “Beatrice, how does this look?”
“Amazing.”
At the sound of the familiar, husky voice she twirled. “Cull, I-I thought you were Beatrice.”
“Apparently so.” His amazing blue eyes skimmed her from head to toe before coming back up to hold her gaze. “You have a little something right here.”
She started to reach up to wipe her cheek, but he beat her to it. He swiped the pad of his thumb along the curve of her cheek, leaving a trail of blissful heat that swarmed other pink parts of her body. How could one man have so much control over her? To keep from falling, she grabbed ahold of the edge of the counter and held on for dear life. “About last ni—”
“Last night we—”
They both said the words simultaneously. He cleared his throat. “You go ahead.”
She sighed heavily.
Okay, here was her chance to clear the air. She’d thought about what she’d say to him and none of her brave words showed up on her tongue. “Why don’t you go first,” she offered.
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.”