Sandra Brown wrote a killer premise and then someone handed it to the wrong narrator.
Let me back up. I picked up The Alibi because I needed something twisty for my drive home after three brutal night shifts in a row. Hot Ice was the last Sandra Brown I'd burned through on a commute, and while that one moves faster out of the gate, neither book wastes your first ten minutes. Charleston politics, a murder suspect who IS the prosecutor's alibi, a dead real estate mogul nobody's crying over - on paper, this thing practically vibrates with tension. And honestly? The bones of this story are good. Really good. Brown knows how to construct a web where every character has a secret, a motive, and a reason to lie.
The Setup That Should've Had Me White-Knuckling the Steering Wheel
Hammond Cross is the kind of protagonist I actually enjoy - ambitious but not soulless, compromised but not beyond redemption. He's gunning for DA in Charleston, and the Lute Pettijohn murder case is his golden ticket. Except the woman he had a weekend fling with? Prime suspect. And his alibi for the night of the murder? Her. It's a conflict of interest so massive it could have its own zip code.
Brown layers in threats from every direction. Steffi Mundell, Hammond's ex-lover and professional rival, is circling like she can smell blood. Rory Smilow, the homicide detective who hates Hammond on a molecular level, is building his case brick by brick. And Davee Pettijohn - the dead man's widow who's too blunt to pretend she's grieving - adds this wonderfully acerbic energy every time she shows up. The woman straight up refuses to perform widowhood, and I respect that so much.
Brown's pacing in the plot construction is solid. She parcels out information like a night shift charge nurse handing out assignments - you get exactly what you need and not one detail more until she's ready. The reveal structure works. The romantic tension between Hammond and his suspect actually earns its pages because the stakes are real and professional, not just personal.
Dennis Redfield and the Fourteen-Hour Flatline
Here's where I have to be honest, and I don't love being honest about this because the story deserved better.
Dennis Redfield narrates this book like he's reading a deposition transcript at 4 AM. And look - I KNOW 4 AM energy. I live it. But when you're performing a thriller where a prosecutor is watching his career implode in real time while falling for a murder suspect, I need some pulse in the delivery. There were stretches - particularly in the middle third - where I caught myself rewinding because his tone didn't shift between a tense confrontation and a character ordering coffee. Hammond arguing with Steffi sounds almost identical to Hammond having a quiet moment alone. The emotional register stays flat when the story is screaming for range.
Character differentiation is minimal. Smilow should sound cold and controlled, distinct from Hammond's conflicted energy. Instead they kind of... blend. The women fare slightly better but not by much. I kept having to reorient myself based on context clues rather than vocal cues, which at 7 AM on the I-10 with my eyes burning is not ideal.
I will say this - and I noticed it around the four-hour mark - Redfield has a certain steadiness that works for the procedural scenes. When it's just straight investigation, facts being laid out, the measured delivery actually fits. It's when the emotional and romantic scenes hit that the mismatch becomes painful. There's some sexual content in here that lands with all the heat of someone reading assembly instructions.
I've heard other Sandra Brown audiobooks narrated by Victor Slezak and the difference is night and day. Slezak brings dynamics. Redfield brings... consistency. Unfortunately consistency in a thriller translates to monotone.
Should You Spend Your Drive on This?
If you're a Sandra Brown fan and you haven't read The Alibi, the story itself is worth your time. The premise is one of her cleverest - using the alibi structure to trap the protagonist in an impossible ethical bind is genuinely smart plotting. Davee Pettijohn alone is worth the price of admission.
But - and this is a big but - bump the speed to 1.25x. Maybe even 1.5x if you're an experienced listener. It tightens Redfield's pacing considerably and injects some urgency the flat delivery strips away. This is not a book for background listening. You need to be paying attention because the narrator won't flag the important moments for you.
Carlos asked why I was talking to myself in the driveway. I wasn't yelling at my dashboard this time - no medical inaccuracies to scream about (it's not that kind of thriller). I was just sitting there trying to decide if I liked the experience or just liked the story underneath it. Turns out those can be two very different things.
Night Shift Prescription
Good story, underperforming narrator. Read it on Kindle if you can. If audio's your only option, speed it up and commit your full attention. Sandra Brown built a house worth living in - the tour guide just needs more caffeine.
