Valerie Hansen - No Alibi

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

*Serenity, Arkansas

Julie Ann said, “I called the sheriff and got you some backup.”

“I told you to stay in your beauty shop.”

“Did you catch the shooter?”

“No, there were a couple of shell casings on the roof but that’s all.”

“See? It was safe to come out.”

The absurdity of her statement made him want to shake some sense into her. Clenching his fists instead, Smith said, “You know better than that.”

“This isn’t a combat zone,” Julie Ann argued. “Lighten up.”

In a way she was right. But he couldn’t expect a civilian to understand what it was like to come under fire.

He reached out and gently cupped her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your shop and we can tell the sheriff what we saw.”

Smith pulled her closer. When he’d promised Julie Ann’s brother he’d look after her, Smith hadn’t dreamed things would take such an ominous turn.

was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill Books.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid.

—Psalms 56:3–4

Given my love and appreciation for the wonderful people in my life, I hardly know where to begin. I am so blessed it’s scary!

As always, a special hug for my husband. Not only is he a great guy, he can cook! And he does, especially when I’m busy writing more books. Hey, maybe that’s why I’ve tried to stay so busy.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

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 halfhearted 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 in one 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 going.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the 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 all set,” he said.

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.”

Julie Ann Jones loved her career. There was something very rewarding about running the Serenity Salon. She’d always been artistic 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 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 hired her. 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. She was determined to succeed on her own, and so far, so good, despite her father’s criticism.