Chapter 2

The courier came at 8:10 Friday morning with two pages on Gaming Commission letterhead. License suspended pending investigation. Effective immediately. Credentials surrendered on request.

Vera read it at her kitchen counter in her breeches, read it again, and started making calls.

The barn office didn't answer. Pierce's cell rang through to voicemail. On the fourth try, Doreen, the assistant manager, picked up and told her the stable accounts had been frozen that morning. All of them. The feed order. The farrier's check. Friday payroll for six grooms.

"Frozen how?"

"Mr. Whitlock says it's temporary. The LLC attorney advised it."

"To protect what?"

A pause. "He says Sable Sunday's getting rested. She ships Monday."

Monday. Vera sat down on the kitchen floor with her back against the cabinets, because her legs had made the decision for her.

The filly's health certificate was still unsigned. It had been taped on the office whiteboard since Tuesday with a red circle around the date, and a horse does not cross a state line without it. Neither does a sale.

Thirty-five minutes south, her mother was in a step-down unit at Albany Med, asking every afternoon where Vera's horses were.

At ten, Marcus Dell came around the side of the house with his hood up. He wouldn't come inside. He stood on the porch steps with his hands jammed in his jacket pockets.

"They moved her to the far paddock by the training track," he said. "Pierce put a guard on the office door. Some kid from a security company with a tablet and a folding chair."

"Who's galloping her?"

"Nobody. She hasn't been out since Wednesday." Marcus looked at the street. "They're calling it rest."

Rest before a sale. Rest so the filly stands for a strange vet with a strange hand on the shank, and nobody who knows her is standing there to say what's wrong.

"Doreen said he took my binder off the office shelf Thursday," Vera said. "Locked it in the cabinet with the LLC files."

"He took the whole office." Marcus's mouth flattened. "Vera. Wednesday. What time did you leave the barn?"

"Four. Ten past."

"And the office looked like what?"

"Mail on the desk, like always." He frowned, working something loose. "There was a mailer from a compounding pharmacy up in Clifton Park. I noticed it Tuesday because it had an account number printed on it. I figured it was a feed bill."

Vera's mouth went dry. "Was it there Thursday morning?"

"It was gone." Marcus shifted his weight. "And the trash barrel was empty at five a.m."

"What?"

"County hauler, backing up to the barn with his lights off. Nobody picks up at five. I thought it was the water guy." He took a breath. "So before my shift I walked out to the dumpster behind the maintenance shed. The one they never bother to lock."

"And?"

Marcus looked at her for a long second, then reached into his jacket.