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Spring at Meyers Ranch.
Jake sat back, plopped his heels on the table and studied the information he’d put on the boardroom wall-screens. Mares, stallions, breeding records, race records. Results he’d slowly whittled down when he’d had time.
Months ago, the search for Vedigan Way had been called off—closed in the eyes of the people paying the freight—but Meyers Security didn’t do failure. They’d take what time they could and they’d find the horse or an answer. Somehow, some way.
The company had stayed busy through the winter and well into spring with life-saving missions, but now that there seemed to be a lull in urgent business, they’d decided to take another look at the case of the missing horse.
Jake had spent three days compiling notes from the research based on Tara’s lists, and now he had an idea to pitch to the team. He’d found a few patterns. Mares with one great foal and many duds—finely bred beasts with no ability. Not that these results weren’t possibly due to genetics, but the frequency of the occurrences had caught his eye. That and the vast amount of money involved.
Gambling started long before a horse reached racing age. It was a stock market all its own, and the people on the floor were as important as the moneyed clients behind the deals. Trading could be hot, and insider trading was just as hard to prove.
The gamble began with a decision to breed a mare. Would her foals sell for decent money as yearlings? That would require a well-conformed individual of good size, disposition, and pedigree. If a mare was deemed worthy, then a stallion must be chosen for the best possible crossing of bloodlines. There were many theories, and even books, on inbreeding, outbreeding, and nicking.
Although he’d finally begun to understand the horse market and its variables, he still couldn’t see—on paper—how to go about identifying the bad dealings of the criminal high rollers Tara had insisted were involved. Sure, he’d found the dots, but now he needed a way to connect them.
Angie strolled in. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So you’ve got an idea?” She filled her water bottle from the big jug at the back of the room.
“Yeah, but it needs budget approval.”
She eyed his stacks of paper. “Have you narrowed anything down? Tossed out any of the names she gave you?”
“Eliminating about half was pretty easy. Take a look at the current farm list.” He handed her a single printed page. “Any of those names give you a jingle?”
Angie’s instincts were usually spot on and her teammates never discounted a feeling when she got one. Even when he’d been a kid in LA, it had only taken one school holiday at the ranch to teach him about his cousin’s special ability. She’d kept them all from getting busted a couple of times and made it worth letting her tag along when the boys were after an adventure.
“Nope.” She gave it back to him. “Got anything else on paper?”
He passed her the other lists and she parked her butt on the table.
“Gimme a couple high-lighters,” she said, with her hand held out but her eyes on the work.
He put a green and a blue in her hand and watched her quickly flip through the pages, using one and then the other, before giving the pages to him. “Two colors are the ones that caught my interest both passes. First and second impressions, you might say. Don’t know if it will help or not.”
His smile grew as he looked at what she’d done, then added a third mark to several with an orange pen. “These ones jumped out when I first started researching.”
Quinn joined them, going straight to the coffee maker. “Progress?”
“I think so,” said Jake. “What are the chances I could get myself a trip to the Kentucky Derby?”
Setting his mug on the table, Quinn pulled out a chair. “Pretty good if you’ve got a good reason for the expense.”
Jake nearly shot a triumphant fist in the air. Reeled in his excitement. “I’ve found enough discrepancy in the produce of several mares to want a closer look at half a dozen farms—”
“Derby week is crazy busy,” said Angie.
“Which will work in my favor.” Time to press his point. “And create a perfect opportunity to blend in with the masses and do some solid research. Arriving a few days early would allow me to go on farm tours to get a feel for the industry, as well as individual operations, then on the big day, I’d mingle with the crowds at the races. You never know what I might hear if I rub elbows in the right places. Might luck out with a braggart who doesn’t handle his mint juleps real well.”
Quinn nodded. “I like it.”
Angie had been nodding as he spoke. “It’s a solid idea, and we happen to have a safe house in Louisville not far from the track.”
Thirty minutes later, six of the Meyers team sat around the huge oval table. Quinn, Rachel, Quinn’s siblings Eve and Angie, their mother, Julia, and Jake.
Quinn ran the meeting, catching everyone up on where the cold investigation stood, and the new idea of Jake going to Kentucky. “Meyers was publicly searching for Vedigan Way, so people know us. You’ll be most effective if you go undercover.”
“Which will also protect your witness after this all breaks and charges are laid.” Angie was always confident about the outcome of a case.
“Exactly,” said Rachel. “The racing industry is so tight-knit some call it incestuous—only meaning, the pool is small and many people are related in convoluted ways. If Tara wants to stay out of the picture as far as blowing the doors off of what we’re guessing is a long-running con, you can’t be showing that mug of yours under wraps.”
Jake found it interesting that in spite of him telling them he couldn’t have future contact with Tara, his teammates seemed to think they would be together eventually.
Quinn glanced at his mother, and his sister Eve. “You two are being awfully quiet.”
“Just getting a feel,” said Julia.
“I’m pretty much in observer mode for this one,” said Eve. “I agree that the trip will be a great opportunity to gather more information and possibly get a lead or two. I also agree that you should keep your identity protected.”
Quinn glanced around the table. “Then let’s wrap this up. Any objections to sending Jake and Angie undercover to Louisville for Derby week?”
Angie’s suddenly sucked-in breath was audible.
“Problem?” asked Quinn.
“Uh, no. Just surprised. It’s short notice for rearranging my life. You know, like my kid and his dog.”
“And your secret love-life,” muttered Quinn, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his wife.
“Yes.” Angie’s eyes sparkled with anger. “I have a love life. Get used to it.”
“Be easier if you’d at least let us meet the guy. Hard not to imagine all kinds of crazy reasons you’re keeping him hidden.”
Her nostrils flared as she stood, managing to look somehow taller than the five-foot-two she measured in at. “Fuck you.”
Julia’s voice was sharp. “Out of line. Both of you. Sit.” She waited only long enough for Angie’s butt to touch leather. “I think it’s a good plan. Angie and Jake go in as a couple—we all know the ratio for noticeability—and you stay under, full makeup, et cetera, for the duration. Jake can be the interested party, Angie the tagalong wife who is slightly disinterested in everything but the big race, and maybe the fashion statements.” She glanced at her daughter. “Gives you a separate angle, opens a different set of doors.”
It sounded like a perfect set-up to Jake, better than he’d hoped for. Traveling as a couple made them damn near invisible. “I like it.”
“Sounds good to me too,” said Quinn. “Any other suggestions?” When no one spoke he nodded. “Great. We need to get to Haven.” He offered a hand to his wife.
“How’s it going over there?” asked Angie.
Rachel grinned. “Awesome.” She held up her phone. “Just got a text. It looks like the nanny goat we rescued last week is about to give birth. Lucky thing.” She leaned on Quinn. “I on the other hand will continue lugging our children around on the indoor program.”
Quinn glanced at his watch. “And I have two new guests. Both opting for residential time to get a handle on some of their PTS issues.”
Julia frowned. “What is it with the D these days? Why have you started calling it PTS?” Julia’s husband, James, had only recently begun to get a handle on his symptoms thanks to a service dog. He was doing so well now, that he was helping out at Haven.
“What we’re treating is much more an injury—a result of trauma—than a disorder, so some prefer to avoid the stigma of the term.” Quinn put his coffee cup on the tray near the door. “Personally, I treat the patient and use whatever term he or she needs to hear.” He lifted a hand. “Catch you—”
“How is it going with having your father on board?” Julia asked.
Quinn’s smile was nice to see when the subject of his father came up. They’d been estranged for several years and were now not only reunited, but working together. Work, the family hoped, that would put him back in a place where he could once again be part of all of their lives. For now, the best he could manage was visiting with Julia. But he couldn’t stay. Not yet.
“He’s doing really well,” Quinn told his mother. “Putting in three days a week, working with the animals, and helping others in the program.”
When they’d left, Julia took over the meeting. “How much time to you need, Angie?”
She’d been scrolling through her calendar. “Put Trent on duty as pilot effective now, and give me forty-eight hours.”
Julia glanced at the family schedule. “That should work. We’ll meet in the dressing room on Sunday, at oh-eight-hundred. You’ll need to be ready to fly out by noon. Use a twin engine.” She leveled her gaze on Angie. “Can you give Jake some time for planning before then?”
“Negative. But we’ll have time during the makeovers and inflight, so no worries.” She tapped her wrist. “Time’s ticking. I’m outta here.”
“Me, too.” Eve followed in her wake.
Julia leaned back in her chair. “I have nothing pressing right now, and I’ve attended the Derby a few times, Jake, so let’s talk strategy.” She held out a hand. “Let’s see those lists.”
Julia was the master. He waited while she scanned the pages.
“You’re going to encounter an enormous crush of people, and simply getting into Churchill Downs—let alone traveling any distance once on the grounds—will be a challenge to say the least. I will arrange for passes that will put you in a position to find the kind of information you’re looking for.”
She put maps up on one screen, lists of tour packages and other entertainment on the others. “These three,” she said using the cursor to point out several nightspots. “They’re preferred by track insiders. Make a point of getting to all of them. You’ll be able to mingle and pick up the vibes around those people.”
She highlighted several breeding farm tours. “Take all of these and you’ll hit each of the farms on Tara’s list. They’re full-day tours as you’ll be travelling to Lexington and other areas.”
“I’ve already eliminated two of those farms.”
“Go anyway. You never know what you might discover.” She moved to the map of the track. “You’ll enter here and then there will be three directions to choose from. We’ll make sure you have VIP passes, so virtually nothing is out of bounds for you. Well, aside from the backstretch. Those passes are beyond our scope unless we use our people who can influence minds, and we try not to do that unless it’s a life or death situation. Then, all bets are off.”
Jake concentrated on the map and her directions. In his gut, there was a gnawing of anticipation, and in his heart, an uncanny knowledge that something would change when he got to Kentucky. Whether good or bad, he’d have to wait to find out.