No Alibi

“Sure, I do. I’m as good a foxhole Christian as the next guy. But I don’t think God is managing my whole life. That’s what He gave us brains for.”

Julie Ann shook her head and faced him, her lips pressed into a thin line, her hands fisted on her hips. “Look, Mr. Burnett, I appreciate your concern, really I do, but if the Good Lord had not wanted me on this jury, I wouldn’t have been chosen. Period. End of discussion.”

She yanked open the courthouse door before Smith could do it for her and stomped in ahead of him. She’d had her fill of being told what to do by her overbearing father. She’d been making her own choices for a long time. Good choices. Sane choices.

Praise the Lord she hadn’t been right about Smith’s amorous interest in her in the past, she added, a bit surprised by the thought. He might have many sterling attributes but he was also the kind of stubborn, domineering man she’d never allow herself to become romantically involved with, no matter what.

Naturally, her Southern upbringing and the fact that Smith was a close friend of Ben’s precluded any behavior other than absolute politeness. That did not mean, however, that she was going to be all sugary and sweet to him from now on. The gall of the man, ordering her to use the vandalism as an excuse to back out of serving on the jury.

If anything, the holes in her shop window were all the more reason why she was intent on doing her sworn duty, even if Sherilyn wasn’t able to pull herself together and come back to work after their fright.

As she entered the courtroom and took her seat in the jury box, however, Julie Ann was already having second thoughts. No matter how hard she tried to reason away the attack, someone seemed to have it in for her. Someone right here in Serenity. And the first indication of that had come right after she’d been chosen for this jury.

By the end of the first day, three men and four women had been approved by both the prosecuting and defense attorneys, though Smith had not yet been interviewed. He left the courthouse in time to watch Julie Ann dart across the street and pause long enough to unlock the front door of her salon. Someone, probably Harlan, had stuck silver duct tape over the breaks in the window. It wasn’t pretty but it seemed an adequate temporary fix.

Hesitating, Smith removed his blazer and slung it over his shoulder by one finger while he tried to decide what to do next. That woman wasn’t rational about life in general and her vulnerability in particular. Still, what could he do? He supposed he could follow her home and try to keep an eye on her from a distance.

“And get myself arrested for stalking,” Smith muttered to himself, thoroughly disgusted. “Ben would laugh his head off.”

Nevertheless, he crossed the street and circled to the rear of the salon, expecting to catch Julie Ann leaving and at least caution her again when she locked up for the day. There was one fairly new, two-door compact car parked there on a gravel pad.

He stared. Circled the parked vehicle to check further. Then, he did the only logical thing, he banged on the back door of the beauty salon with his fist.

When Julie Ann responded, he merely stepped out of the way and gestured toward the car.

She burst through the door like a shot. “My car! What happened?”

“Beats me.” Smith stood back, frowning. “Looks like somebody flattened all your tires. Has this ever happened before?”

“No. Never. They were fine when I used this door earlier. At least I think they were.” She stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was planning to talk some sense into you and then make sure you got home safely.”

“Why?”

“It just seemed like the right thing to do.” He wasn’t about to admit he’d begun hanging around her more as a favor to her brother and fellow Marine than because he’d actually wanted to. This task had long since progressed past that. It was his duty to look after Julie Ann. That was all there was to it.

“I’ll wait right here. Go call Harlan again,” Smith said.

To his relief, she ducked back inside and quickly re-emerged carrying a portable phone. Smith listened as she did what he’d suggested, then hung up.

“The sheriff says he’ll be right over,” Julie Ann told him with a sigh and shake of her head as she stared at the damage. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Neither can I.” He paused, thoughtful. “I wonder if Harlan has had any other odd reports since the jury selection began.”

“I’d thought of that possible connection, too. Do you suppose this is all happening because of the trial?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of that’s changed in the past twenty-four hours.”

“I hope you’re wrong.”

Smith nodded sagely. “I hope so, too.” He looked up as the sheriff’s black-and-white vehicle cruised slowly into the alley and stopped next to Julie Ann’s car.

As Harlan got out and hitched up his gun belt, Smith decided that the portly man looked more serious than he had after they’d turned up no suspects from the first call.

The sheriff circled the vandalized car, then used his radio to request a tow truck before addressing Julie Ann.

“I’m sorry, Miz Julie,” Harlan said. “I’ll need to take your car in and get it looked at. I think the tires are okay but I’m hoping the perpetrator left fingerprints when he messed with ’em. It’s worth a closer look.” He glanced at Smith. “Will you be able to see the lady home or shall I have my deputy, Boyd, do it?”

“I’ll give her a lift,” Smith said before Julie Ann had time to object.

“Good.” Harlan looked from one to the other, settling his sober gaze on Julie Ann. “I want you to be real careful, ma’am. I’d feel a lot better if you wasn’t alone too much, if you get my drift.”

“I live alone, Sheriff,” she countered. “And I like it that way. Thank you for your concern but I can look after myself. I’ll be fine.”

Smith wasn’t anywhere near satisfied. “Okay, Harlan. What else is bothering you?”

“Besides the shooter at lunchtime you mean?” He sighed noisily, seeming reluctant to go on. Finally he said, “There was an accident up on Route 9 a little while ago. The steering failed on Estelle Finnerty’s car and she plowed into a ditch. She’s okay but she was pretty shaken up.”

Julie Ann gasped. “Estelle was chosen for Lester’s jury today—just like me.”

“That looks an awful lot like a pattern to me,” Smith said, taking note of Julie Ann’s worried look. Now that Harlan had confirmed their suspicions that jurors were being targeted, she’d have to inform the judge.

His fists clenched. If logic didn’t get through that thick skull of hers pretty soon, he didn’t know what he’d do, but somebody had to do something.

She must have seen the change in his expression because her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“It’s like this,” Smith said. “There’s a fair chance that somebody is trying to frighten jurors—or worse—and you need to take that threat more seriously than you have been so far.”

“I’m supposed to be scared of flat tires?”

“No. You’re supposed to be worried about bullet holes. Watch yourself like the sheriff says. Go stay with a friend till he can catch whoever’s behind all this.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Smith said. “In that case, you’d better get used to me or Harlan or Boyd being parked outside your house all night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t sleep in your car.”

“I will if you force me to.”

“And you call me stubborn.”

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Smith’s neck began to prickle. He tensed, quickly scanning the area. There was no one visible except Harlan and Julie Ann, but still…

His gaze met hers. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, although she folded her arms across her chest as if she were chilly in spite of the warm temperature.