Excerpt of NO ALIBI

"When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid."   Psalm 56:3-4

Prologue

Under the cover of a nearly moonless night, the well-dressed man ordered the driver of his limousine to park behind a bank of metal storage buildings where they couldn't be seen from the street.

When his local accomplice climbed in to join him, as planned, the executive edged closer to the opposite door and tried to mask his disdain. "Are you sure this will work the way I explained? I don't want any slipups." Arching an eyebrow, he waited for his rough-hewn, young confederate to answer.

"It'll work. Ol' Lester'll never know what hit him. And he knows better than to open his yap and rat us out."

"Us?" The silk-suited, older man straightened his tie and smiled malevolently. "There is no us, Denny. You and I have never met, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I remember. Just see to it that I get my fair share and we'll have no problems, Mr. Evans."

"No names!" The command was unmistakably a threat. He'd meant it to be. Not only did his own future depend upon the success of this plan, he had others to answer to. Others who would be even less forgiving than he was.

"Okay. Don't go gettin' all het up. When are you gonna sic the cops on him?"

"Just as soon as you let me know he's shipped out a couple of batches of booze. We don't want to shut him down too early. He has to look as guilty as sin."

"I still don't get it," the younger, jeans-clad man said. "Why set him up to make good moonshine and then take him down?"

"You don't have to understand any more than I choose to tell you." His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "I'll take care of the details. You just do your job. And keep me advised."

"Yes, sir." Denny gave a half-hearted salute and reached for the door handle. "Another week or two ought to do it. I got him plenty of sugar and yeast. He's picking up the sacks of corn from the feed mill, like you said he should."

"All right. Meet me back here next week, same day, same time, and I'll decide what happens next."

"Lester ain't gonna like it when he's arrested. How you gonna keep him from figurin' out I'm the one that turned him in?"

"I said I'd take care of it and I will," Evans assured him. "Now get out and get going."

"Yes, sir."

As the black limousine slipped away into the moonless night and headed for the highway, Evans opened his cell phone, pushed redial and quickly made a connection.

"It's me," he said. "It's all set."

He listened a moment, then replied, "Don't worry about Denny. He doesn't have a clue as to what's really going on and he won't say a word about the old man being framed, either."

He chuckled at the query on the other end of the line, then answered, "No, he won't get wise or change his mind and sell out to the feds. He won't have time to. I have a strong feeling poor Denny is going to meet with a tragic accident long before this bootlegging case goes to trial."

Chapter One

Julie Ann Jones loved her career choice. There was something very rewarding about running the Serenity Salon. She'd always had an artistic bent and she knew cosmetology was the perfect way to put her God-given talent to good use. Her friends had been delighted by her success, which helped make up for the fact that she hadn't gotten even the slightest inkling of moral support from her parents.

She usually kept her own honey-brown hair short but had decided to let it grow in order to donate it to an organization that provided wigs for juvenile cancer patients. The longer length was driving her crazy but she was determined to hold out for the sake of the charity.

Her only employee, Sherilyn Fox, was another of her community projects. A high school dropout, Sherilyn had desperately needed a job, so as soon as she'd graduated from beauty school, Julie Ann had provided it. Seeing the girl's pride and self-worth increasing daily had made Julie Ann feel as if she were looking into a mirror and watching the birth of her own hard-won independence.

Sherilyn burst through the door of the otherwise quiet beauty shop and waved a handful of mail. "You aren't going to like this, boss."

"Why? More bills? What a surprise."

"Uh-uh." She shook her blond, spiked hair and made a silly face. "Worse."

"Nothing could be worse than bills," Julie Ann said. "Trust me. I know." She grimaced, thinking of the sacrifices she'd made in order to avoid having to ask her parents – or anyone else - for financial help. There was just something in her nature that insisted she succeed on her own, and so far, so good, regardless of her father's outspoken criticism of her blue-collar-type career choice.

"Then I guess you've never gotten a jury summons before, huh?"

"A what?" Julie Ann snatched the envelope from Sherilyn's hand, tore it open and unfolded the contents. Her hazel eyes widened and her shoulders sagged. "I don't believe this. How can I take time off to serve on a jury? I have a business to run."

"Hey, it's not like the courthouse is that far away." Sherilyn pointed out the plate glass, beauty shop window that fronted the Serenity square. "You could hit it with a rock from here."

"I'd like to try doing that about now," Julie Ann admitted, "but they'd probably arrest me." She stared at the summons in her hand. "I can't spare the time away. Do you suppose they'd excuse me if I explained my problem?"

"Maybe. I suppose it's worth a try."

"I'm sure it is." Refolding the summons, she stuffed it into the pocket of her pastel flowered smock and started for the door. "I don't have another appointment until Louella's perm. Hold down the fort for me, will you?"

"Sure. You going to go beg?"

"If I have to," Julie Ann said with a quirky half-smile. "I am friends with a lot of folks over at the courthouse. Surely somebody will be able to help me get excused."

"Are you positive that's the right thing to do?" Sherilyn asked. "What if all the Christians begged off? Who'd be left?"

Julie Ann was still mulling over that question when she stepped out of her shop and scanned the broad, tree-lined street that flanked the town square. In a way, the girl was right. Who would be left? Then again, the Bible also cautioned believers to be good stewards of what God had given them. If she neglected her business, wouldn't that be a sin, too?

Satisfied with that rationalization, Julie Ann hurried across the street. She could not serve on a jury. Not and keep her business afloat, let alone flourishing. A spiky-haired assistant like Sherilyn was fine for the younger crowd but older women weren't likely to trust her to touch their hair with a ten-foot pole. Julie Ann understood that. Not that she was that much older at twenty-five. She was simply more traditional.

She glanced at her watch as she started up the walkway to the courthouse. Hopefully she had enough spare time to see the powers-that-be and get this mess straightened out.

Starting to reach for the handle of the heavy glass door, she was almost bowled over by a familiar, broad-shouldered man who was exiting.

His gruff, "Excuse me," was not accompanied by a smile. On the contrary, he was glaring at her through coffee-dark eyes. Smith Burnett's countenance was so different from the way she was used to seeing it, she was taken aback.

"Smith? What's wrong?"

He paused long enough to hold the door for her. "This," he said, waving a crumpled piece of paper.

Julie Ann immediately recognized the form. "Jury duty?"

"Yes. They said only the judge, himself, can excuse me. How am I supposed to run a real estate business if I'm cooling my heels in a jury box?"

She made a face and nodded as she fished her own summons out of the pocket of her smock. "I know exactly how you feel. I was hoping. . ."

"Well, don't hold your breath," he said, glancing down the empty hallway of the old, brick building. "I got nowhere. They just told me to fill out a questionnaire and leave the rest to the judge's discretion."

"In that case, if you want a haircut from me you'd best be getting it soon," Julie Ann said, assessing his thick, dark hair and trying to keep from remembering how it had felt to run her fingertips over it years ago when she'd been much younger and far too impressionable. "I'm afraid I may be tied up soon."

"Yeah. Me, too."

Turning away from him and starting down the hallway, she was suddenly aware that she was trembling. It was obviously because she was upset about the summons, she reasoned, discounting the disturbing realization that her shakiness had not begun until she'd encountered Smith. She'd never seen him that animated, that forceful, that. . . The only other word that came to mind was masculine.

After his stint as a Marine and subsequent return to Serenity he'd seemed different, yes, but not this different. This was a darker, more dynamic aspect of his personality than she'd ever imagined, let alone glimpsed, and it had affected her all the way from the roots of her hair to her toes.

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