Jolene stared at the stranger standing in front of her. She heard the words but they didn’t register. She and Dulcie were sisters? “That’s not possible.”

“I know this is hard to believe. I’m having the same trouble, but it’s true.” Dulcie went on to talk about a locket and grandparents and secrets. Jolene listened but felt no connection to the people Dulcie was telling her about.

“Jolene, you are Angel,” Dulcie said when she’d finished.

She was Angel Beaumont? The daughter of Laura Beaumont? The little girl who’d witnessed her mother’s murder? The little girl someone had saved?

She shook her head and pulled her hands free. “There’s been a mistake.”

Dulcie studied her for a moment. “There’s one way to prove it. We can have Russell’s brother at the sheriff’s department run DNA tests. Then will you believe me?”

The sooner they cleared this up the better, Jolene thought, just wanting to leave the cemetery and go home. Since she was a little girl she’d always lost herself in books and that was what she wanted to do right now—curl up with a book, forget about all of this.

“Don’t you see, this is why you’re getting the murder story,” Dulcie said. “Someone knows who you really are.”

Jolene felt herself surface as if she’d been swimming up from the bottom of a deep, dark pool. “The killer’s wrong.” She felt her first pulse of panic. “If the killer thinks I’m Angel...”

Dulcie’s expression softened. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She smiled. “I always wanted a sister. I used to have an imaginary friend, at least that’s what my parents told me it was. Her name was Angel. Don’t you see? I remembered you.”

Jolene brushed at the sudden tears that flooded her eyes. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you...”

“It’s okay,” Dulcie said, putting an arm around her for a moment. “Are you going to be all right?”

Jolene nodded, although she wasn’t sure of that at all. “If what you’re saying is true, why can’t I remember? Why was none of this familiar like it was for you?”

“I suppose you repressed it because you couldn’t handle what you saw. You were so young.” Tears filled Dulcie’s eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

Was that what she’d done? Buried the memory? “You think that’s why I came back here? Why I took this job?”

“Maybe.”

She studied Dulcie. Her sister? “What if the killer got me back here?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.”