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the past few weeks. Her ACE exam was behind her, passed with flying colors. She was officially a certified personal trainer. Along with passing the ACE exam, she’d done a ton of hands-on work. She’d studied and become proficient at the machines, taken a half dozen workshops, and watched as many YouTube videos as she could find, along with exercise DVDs to familiarize herself with the latest moves. Most of all, she’d worked out nonstop, gaining stamina, muscle development, and core strength.
    She might lack experience, but she’d made it her business to know her stuff.
    In addition to that, she’d hired two highly qualified PTs to work with her clients. They’d both been recently unemployed, thanks to the economic climate. So they were grateful for the job offers and had come to her at reasonable rates. She was watching her budget carefully. As for the gym itself, she and Milo were prepping it for its grand opening, totally revamping and refreshing it for the big day.
    Now, she stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined the back wall of Excalibur and admired the results of the hard work that she and Milo had invested. Through the reflection of the mirrors, Julie could get a panoramic view of the entire gym—including the sprawling front desk, the spacious main workout room, the two smaller rooms in either corner, plus a third turf room off to the side.
    She’d worked her ass off to make sure the gym was both male and female friendly. No estrogen overkill colors or bullshit smoothie bar. This was the real deal, with equipment, space, and instructors to satisfy everyone.
    They’d paid a ton of money for the brand new rubber floor in the weight area, but it was worth every penny. Industrial strength, the floor was thick, tough, and texturized—the best there was. Situated on the heavy-duty floor were five adjustable benches, perfect for lifting weights, bench-pressing, and doing leg squats.
    In the small turf room off the weight area were three TRX suspension systems. Julie was still reading up on all the core-building aspects of the TRX, but she couldn’t wait to try it.
    The machine circuit was the nucleus of the gym. The previous owner had chosen Cybex machines to make sure her members were safe and able to get the most out of their workouts—shoulder flies, chin-ups, ab crunches, leg presses, triceps extensions, and bicep curls. That was a great plus for Julie.
    She’d made sure all her bases were covered: ellipticals, treadmills, bicycles, stair climbers, and row trainers complete with flat-screen TVs, courtesy of Milo, to entertain the members. Spin bikes. A small, dedicated room for aerobics, yoga, and Pilates classes was equipped with blue, moveable mats, exercise balls of various sizes, resistance bands, yoga mats, step stools, and jump ropes.
    The final section of the gym was dedicated to locker rooms for men and women, a vending machine with bottled water, Gatorade, and energy drinks, and Julie’s personal office—a private space she’d never dreamed of having but now did.
    She took in the total effect and smiled.
    Thanks to the previous owner and a ton of grunt work, Excalibur was now a cutting-edge gym. Julie was confident that her membership would soar as soon as she opened the doors.
    And the cash would come rolling in.

    Chicago, Illinois
    Nineteenth Police District

    Police Detective Frank Bogart was closing out his evening shift by plowing through his low-priority pile. He scanned the skinny file on top and swiveled around in his desk chair to face his partner.
    “Hey, Paula.” He waved the file in the air. “Are we pursuing this or labeling it as closed?”
    “What’s this?” Detective Paula Kline asked, barely looking up. She was preoccupied with moving in high gear, thanks to the not-happy phone call she’d just received from her husband, informing her of the now-burnt dinner he’d cooked for her. She was in deep shit.
    “The murder of that woman Lisa Barnes.” Frank