Pete went straight to the weights, adjusted them, and positioned himself on the bench.

“Hey, Pete, I saw a friend of yours yesterday. She’s turned into a real looker,” the pudgy newsman gurgled as he tried to wipe the sweat dripping down his face onto his sleeve without taking his hands off the bars.

“Oh, yeah, who’s that?”

Pete almost dropped the barbell when he heard Larry say, “Cady Jordan.” He struggled to take a deep breath. He was supposed to say something. “A looker, huh?”

“Yeah. I finally snagged an interview with Lola Jor Dan that I’ve been wanting to get for years. We’re giving it the whole front page of the Lifestyle section tomorrow. She never gives interviews. This one just dropped into my lap. She called me. Do you believe that? Good interview if I do say so,” Larry continued, hopping off the treadmill and collapsing on the floor. He fanned his beet-red face. “Get this,” he gasped. “Lola said they’re going to get to the bottom of that tragic, ugly business that happened years ago in the Judas Grove. Those are her exact words. Cady doesn’t look anything like her grandmother, but she’s a knockout. Have you seen her yet?”

“Nope.”

“Uh-oh, look who’s here,” Larry said, rolling over and sitting up. “It’s Boomer, and he looks like he’s set to work out. Jesussss, he looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

His body slick with sweat, Pete settled the barbell in its rack and looked around. The gym was filling up. There could have been a hundred people in the room, and he would have been able to pick out Boomer Ward at a glance. The picture in the paper hadn’t done him justice. With a gun strapped to his waist and his dog at his side, the Indigo Valley native would be a force to be reckoned with.

“Take it easy, sport. It took you a long time to get that gut, so don’t expect twenty minutes on a treadmill to make it go away. Watch your diet and take it slow. You should think about hiring a personal trainer.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Hey, let me know how you like my story in tomorrow’s paper.”

“Will do.”

Pete took a deep breath as he approached Boomer Ward, who was grinding away on a stair-stepper.

“Pete Danson,” he said, holding out his hand. “What do I call you? Boomer, Chief, what?”

“Mac will do it. How are you, Pete? If you’re more comfortable with Boomer, that’s okay, too. It’s been, what, twenty years?” he said, crushing Pete’s hand.

“About that. Saw the article about you in the Sentinel. Congratulations. It’s turning into Old Home Week around here. I just heard Cady Jordan has moved back here, too.”

Mac hopped off the stair-stepper. “No kidding.”

“No kidding,” Pete said. “Larry Denville, the same guy that did your write-up, interviewed Lola Jor Dan, and the article is going to be in the paper tomorrow. Pick up a copy. She said they’re going to get to the bottom of that nasty, ugly business that happened in the Judas Grove a long time ago.”