“I’ll finish up later. Now get going!”

THEY WENT BACK TO THE STABLES. THE HORSES WERE STARTING to wake up. Many of them had put their muzzles outside the half doors and were stamping their hooves. Rocco and Italo reached the stall next to Winning Mood’s stall and went into it. The deputy chief inserted the key in the lock and pulled open the door to the little secret room.

Ten feet by seven, a refrigerator, English prints of horses hanging on the walls. Rocco opened the refrigerator. The dim bluish light illuminated his face. The fridge was full of pharmaceuticals. Phenylbutazone, Zylkene, Equanimity, Calmitan, Equiworm . . . Rocco examined them box by box. He would read the label and then put the package back. Stanozolol, Tefamin. Bronchodilators, corticosteroids, anti-inflammatory drugs, and hormones. Rocco was no expert in sports medicine, but he’d dealt with a few cases. Half the pharmaceuticals in that refrigerator were banned substances, products used for doping, things you’d definitely keep under lock and key. Then one box in particular caught his eye. Drontal Plus, a dog dewormer. He knew about it—he’d given the same stuff to Lupa. He picked up the package. It seemed odd to find that pharmaceutical in the midst of all those horse medicines. Under lock and key, and in a refrigerator. He opened the box. Inside were three glass vials. And they were labeled: “Ethyl carbamate.” Urethane.

“Bingo!” said Rocco. He put the medicines back into the refrigerator. “Now we’ve got to get moving, Italo. I have to put everything back where it was, and soon it’ll be daylight. Let’s lock up here, and then we can meet at the enclosure wall.”

“Where are you going?”

“To put the keys back and screw down the skylight.”