LAWSON WATCHED TYLER GRAHAM’S WHITE PICKUP TRUCK PULL INTO THE half-empty parking lot of the grocery store. Since Graham was constantly busy running his grandfather’s empire, Lawson had made it easier on him this time and arranged for a meeting in Elgin, closer to his farm.
Last time, they’d met at the Omni Hotel in downtown Austin. After the debriefing, they’d walked a few blocks to a pub and ordered burgers and a beer. When an old-school rap song came blaring out over the speakers they’d both started singing the lyrics, each surprised that the other one knew the song. They weren’t on the clock anymore but just hanging out over beers. Lawson realized they had a lot in common. He’d chosen to follow his father into law enforcement, and Graham had chosen to run his grandfather’s businesses. They’d both grown up around horses, but for Graham the horses were a moneymaking enterprise, while in his family the horses had only fueled tensions at home over money. It was hard not to fantasize about a life like Graham’s—inheriting a ranch and making money off racehorses.
Lawson had driven Hodge’s Pathfinder because he didn’t trust the beat-up gold Chevy Impala the FBI had given him for undercover work to make it all the way from Laredo. The Chevy, its front fender cratered in because the last agent had hit a deer, was standard rookie issue. So they took Hodge’s SUV, but Lawson had insisted on driving since Hodge tended to hit the gas then let up all of sudden whenever he got worked up about something, which was often. From the passenger seat, Lawson would feel like he was adrift in a roiling sea.
By now, he’d grown to trust Graham. The young horse breeder never balked at anything that Lawson had asked him to do. And his information had been invaluable. Graham pulled up alongside their SUV and rolled down his window. “How’s it going?” he said casually.
“It’s going,” said Lawson. “Thanks for coming.”
“Why don’t you get in the backseat,” said Hodge, reaching around to unlock the door.
Graham climbed out of his pickup and got into the back of the SUV. He was wearing a maroon Texas A&M baseball cap, his alma mater.
Lawson got to the point. He knew that if Graham was gone for too long it would be noticed. There was also always the danger of being spotted by Nayen, or someone else who worked for José, since they were close to Graham’s farm.
“Tell us more about how José’s organization works,” said Lawson.
Graham said he’d just been out at the trials for the Rainbow Futurity in Ruidoso, New Mexico, where he’d noticed that José, Nayen, and Garcia had run several horses under different owners’ names. And there was another unusual thing: all the horses had been renamed after expensive sports cars like Bugatti and Porsche Turbo, which was peculiar because most owners wanted to keep a horse’s original name, especially if the horse was an expensive one, because it showed its pedigree.
Lawson listened closely. This was the first time he was hearing about Ruidoso, and it was frustrating to learn he’d already missed an opportunity to see José and his crew in action.
“So what were some of the names of these owners?” he asked.
Graham didn’t respond right away. Lawson could see he was searching back into this memory.
“Most of them were LLCs: Santa Fe Roldan, Fast and Furious . . . ,” Graham said.
Lawson wrote down the names in a notebook. He was starting to feel that rush of adrenaline he got when he knew he was on to something.
“When’s the next big race?” he asked.
“The All American Futurity,” Graham said. This year there would be a $2 million purse—the largest in its history. Anyone serious about racing would be there. The All American was considered the Kentucky Derby of quarter horse racing. It was held every Labor Day, following one of the biggest auctions of the year for yearlings that would be trained to race for the following season. Graham said José would be running several horses in the trials, which were notoriously grueling. Only ten horses would qualify for what was billed as the “world’s richest quarter horse race.”
Lawson wrote down the date of the race in his notebook. If José was going to be in Ruidoso, then he’d be there too.