No Alibi. Valerie Hansen
Fine. Just overworked. Sherilyn didn’t show up this morning and when I phoned to ask her why, she couldn’t stop crying long enough to tell me.”
“Uh-oh. Were she and Denny involved?”
“I don’t think so. She tells me a lot about her love life—usually more than I’d like to hear—and she’s never mentioned his name.”
“Still, they probably ran around with some of the same people.”
Julie Ann reluctantly agreed. “You’re right. Sherilyn had a pretty hard life until recently so that theory fits. I haven’t had much success getting her interested in the youth activities at my church but I keep trying.”
“She just needs to grow up more before she develops common sense.”
Julie Ann met his glance in the mirror, then averted her eyes. “Like I did, you mean?”
“I never said that.”
“No, but you were thinking it.”
When Smith didn’t contradict her, she felt her cheeks warming with embarrassment. They had never talked about her actions following their one date but she knew he hadn’t been infatuated with her, as she’d hoped back then.
She huffed and pressed her lips into a thin line. That was the understatement of the century. If he hadn’t come to her for haircuts after his military buzz cut had grown out, she’d have assumed he never forgave her for the way she’d pursued him. She certainly wouldn’t have blamed him for avoiding her completely. If their roles had been reversed, that’s probably what she would have done. She was a lot smarter these days—even where Smith was concerned.
As Smith had feared, he and Julie Ann were both notified to report for jury selection a few weeks later. He followed her and several others into the courtroom. It wasn’t like the depictions he’d seen on TV and in the movies. There were fifteen rows of padded, armless chairs facing a small, raised, oak-paneled area beneath the Arkansas seal, which was flanked by national and state flags.
Tables were arranged on either side of the judge’s bench and attorneys were already poring over the questionnaires he and the others had filled out.
Smith would have taken a seat beside Julie Ann if other women had not immediately crowded around her and begun chattering like a gaggle of excited geese.
Julie Ann’s name was the fifth one called. She was graceful and pretty as ever, he noted, although she looked terribly tense as she faced the attorneys, Grimes and Lazarus.
“Your name, please?” the portly Grimes asked.
“Julie Ann Jones.”
“And your residence is in Fulton County, Ms. Jones?”
“Yes. I live in Heart, off Squirrel Hill Road.”
“How long have you lived there?”
“Six years. The house was my grandfather’s.”
Smith could tell she was terribly nervous because not only was her voice shaky, she was clasping her hands together so tightly that her fingers were white against the pale blue of her dress. He didn’t doubt that she was taking this a lot more seriously than most of her peers and he feared her attitude would make her a good choice as a juror.
“Were you acquainted with the victim, Denny Hanford, Ms. Jones?”
“Sure. We were kids together and we went to the same schools. Everybody in Serenity did.”
He gestured toward the defendant’s table where an old man in an orange jumpsuit sat, his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. “How about the accused, Lester Taney?”
“I’ve seen him around.”
As soon as Grimes said, “The people approve,” the judge addressed the defense attorney. “Mr. Lazarus? Do you have any questions for Ms. Jones?”
He shook his graying head, remembering Evans’s instructions. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his gangly neck. “None, your honor.”
“Then we have our first juror.” The judge gestured at the jury box. “Please have a seat, Ms. Jones.”
As Julie Ann took her place, her hazel gaze found Smith’s in the crowd and lingered. She reminded him of a frightened doe, frozen in the middle of the road by the headlights of an oncoming car and unable to jump out of the way of obvious danger.
And she wasn’t the only one who was on edge. Smith didn’t know why, but his senses were as heightened as if he were back in a combat zone and expecting incoming enemy fire at any second.
Three more jurors were seated before the group broke for lunch. Smith’s name had not been called so he was confident it wouldn’t be against the rules to speak to Julie Ann. Falling into step beside her, he left the courthouse with the rest of the group.
Julie Ann stretched and rubbed her neck. “I’m one big knot of tension already. I can’t imagine what the real trial will do to my nerves.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, truly commiserating. “Some of us are going to go grab a bite to eat at Hickory Station. Want to join us?”
“As soon as I check with Sherilyn and see how the shop is running without me,” Julie Ann said. “I canceled all my regulars but there are usually several walk-ins in the mornings.”
“I take it she’s doing better?”
“Yes. The funny thing is, she’s never told me why she was so upset. I expected her to explain when she showed up for work again but she’s acting as if nothing happened.”
“That’s better than leaving you in the lurch when you need to keep the shop open while you’re gone.”
“Boy, that’s the truth.”
He matched Julie Ann’s brisk pace as she crossed the courthouse lawn and then the street. They were almost to the beauty shop when Smith heard a faint crack of sound that made him jump. His military training kicked in with such force that he almost threw himself to the ground and took her with him.
Sheltering Julie Ann with his body, he shoved her through the doorway instead.
“What are you…?”
He wasn’t deterred. Nor did he quit pushing her until they were both well inside. Quickly assessing the room, he spotted the evidence of what he’d feared.
“Look. Up there,” Smith said, pointing to the shop’s front window.
Julie Ann gasped. “Oh my….”
“Somebody just took a shot at us.”
“No way.” As she started toward the front of the salon she kept peering at the tiny, round hole in the window.
Sherilyn joined her. “Whoa. Bummer. I told you those kids with BB guns were going to hit us eventually.”
Incredulous, Smith placed himself between the women and the window, facing them, his arms outstretched to form a barrier. “Stay away from the glass. I’m telling you, that’s no BB.”
“Nonsense,” Julie Ann argued. “It’s just a little bitty hole. What else could it be?”
“Small caliber. Maybe a .22,” Smith said, glancing over his shoulder. “And from the looks of the pattern, it had to have come from high up. Maybe the courthouse.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. This is Serenity. It’s the middle of the day. Nobody would be shooting around here, let alone aiming at us.”
Smith was about to contradict her when a second bullet hit the window behind him. He’d heard that sound often enough to react without hesitation.
Launching himself at the women, he dove for the floor with an arm around each of them. Rolling as he hit,