No Alibi

Grabbing her phone she dialed the emergency number. Instead of the part-time dispatcher she had expected, Harlan answered the call.

“Sheriff’s office.”

Julie Ann was surprised to hear his voice.

“It’s me. Julie Ann Jones,” she said, gripping the phone tightly. “There’s a prowler outside my house.”

“What makes you think so?”

His question was irksome. “Because the dog is barking, the door rattled and the knob turned, only nobody said a word when I hollered at them. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’ll do,” the sheriff answered. “Sit tight and stay inside. I’ll send Boyd right over.”

“Okay.” Julie Ann nodded as she ended the call. Her brain had been spinning wildly during the crisis but she was now thinking more clearly. As long as she was stuck in an isolated house at least a half mile from her nearest neighbor, she was far too vulnerable. Harlan had only one full-time deputy and the county owned two patrol cars. Period. How much time could he and Boyd afford to devote to looking after her? Very little, especially since her farm was so far out of town.

She had only two choices, she decided easily. She’d either have to phone Smith and admit she needed protecting or go to Grandpa Willis’s trunk, dig through the personal items he had willed her when he’d died, and find the revolver they had shared when he’d taught her how to shoot.

As much as she hated the idea of running around the house armed like a gunslinger from a western movie, she wasn’t going to just sit there and become a helpless victim.

And she certainly was not going to phone Smith Burnett and admit she needed protection, particularly his. She was a country girl, born and raised. She could take care of herself. At least she hoped she could.

FOUR

Smith was still concerned and thinking about Julie Ann when he drove past his office near the town square. A sheriff’s car, lights flashing and siren wailing, raced by him going the opposite direction. His heart leaped and felt as if it were lodged in his throat. The patrol car was heading in the direction of Julie Ann’s!

He tried to shrug off his misgivings, found he couldn’t, and decided to make a U-turn and follow. If he got as far as her neighborhood and didn’t spot the police, he’d go on home and try to forget he’d been so impulsive. The last thing he needed was to have her so mad at him for disregarding her wishes that she purposely tried to thwart his efforts to look after her.

As he rounded the final bend on Squirrel Hill Road and glanced up at the hillside, his breath caught. The rotating beacons of the blue and red lights were right in front of Julie Ann’s house.

What’d happened to her?

Smith accelerated and began to drive as if he were racing against an unseen nemesis. Thank goodness his SUV was built to take the punishment of pothole-filled, rock-strewn, dirt roads. His hands held the wheel in a death grip. His jaw clenched. He should never have left her without insisting he check that house first. Never. No matter how much she’d protested against it.

As he skidded to a stop behind the sheriff’s car, he spotted two figures standing in the shadows. He bailed out, ready to do battle. Julie Ann was easy to recognize but the tall, skinny guy with her had better have a very good reason to be there.

Jogging toward the porch, Smith realized that the other man was Harlan’s deputy. That did little to relieve his disgust with himself for leaving Julie Ann alone and his anger at her for insisting she’d be fine.

“What happened?” Smith immediately demanded, shouting in order to be heard over the noisy barking coming from inside the house.

Boyd shook his head and answered. “Don’t rightly know. Miz Jones thought she had a prowler. Nobody was around when I got here.”

“Considering your lights and siren, that’s not too surprising,” Smith grumbled. He stared at her. “You okay?”

“Fine. Why did you come back?”

“I saw the police car driving this way.”

“What made you think it was headed out here?”

“Gut feelings.” Smith raked his fingers through his hair. “I just took a chance, okay? After everything else that’s happened today it was a reasonable conclusion.”

She seemed to accept that explanation, yet Smith could tell she was not totally convinced that he needed to be there. “What do I have to do to make you believe you’re in danger?” he asked.

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Julie Ann replied. “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh? It doesn’t look like it to me.”

The gangly deputy agreed. “That’s what I was tellin’ her when you drove up. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.” He touched the brim of his hat in parting. “Well, there’s nothing more I can do here. If you see anybody who looks funny, you give us another call, ma’am.”

Smith stepped aside to let Boyd pass, then rejoined Julie Ann. “I want to know everything. Tell me what happened.” When she turned slightly and he saw that she was wearing a sidearm in an old leather holster, he pointed and said exactly what he was thinking. “Good grief, woman. Where did you get that?”

“It was my grandpa’s.” Her hand rested on the ivory grip but she gave no indication that she was going to draw the pistol to show it to him.

“And that’s why you think you’ll be safe?” Smith huffed in disparagement. “You’re more likely to hurt yourself with that thing.”

“Grandpa Willis taught me how to shoot. I know what I’m doing.”

“Suppose somebody takes it away from you and turns the tables? What then?”

She scowled. “You’re just full of wonderful ideas, aren’t you?”

“I’m being sensible. You can’t go around like Annie Oakley. Haven’t you ever heard of Mace or a Taser gun?”

“Sure, I have. I just don’t happen to have either in my closet and I did have this gun. Under the circumstances, it seemed like a good idea to get it out and load it.”

Smith gestured toward the porch swing and spoke as calmly as he could. “Will you please sit down and talk to me? I really would like to know what happened.”

When she hesitated, he added a second “Please?”

“All right. As soon as I let Andy and Bubbles out so they don’t bark themselves hoarse or beat down the door. If Andy thinks you’re okay, we’ll talk.”

Her attitude was off-putting. “Then I sure hope he likes me because I intend to hang around until I hear your whole story.”

To Smith’s relief, Julie Ann didn’t just fling open the front door and let her mammoth dog charge out to attack. She spoke to Andy calmly, then put one hand on his collar and escorted him to meet her guest while the much smaller mutt ran in rapid circles on the porch, panting excitedly with its nose to the ground as if hot on the trail of a wild rabbit.

Andy eased up to Smith, sniffed his shoes and pants legs, then ducked his broad, black head under the man’s hand as if greeting a trustworthy old friend.

Wiggling his fingers slightly, Smith scratched the dog’s velvety ears. “I think I get to stay.”

“Looks like it,” Julie Ann said with a surprised expression.

“You didn’t think we’d get along?”

“Actually, no. Andy was abused by his former owner. He doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

“I see. Well, since your excuse for ordering me to leave is gone, now what?”

“We talk.” Adjusting the holster for comfort, she chose a seat at one end of the hanging porch swing and gestured to the empty place. “Since you’re already here, I suppose I may as well go ahead and fill you in on the details. Then we can check around back for clues.”