Final Fix (Rachel Ryder Book 8), page 12
“We haven’t.”
He shook my hand with a firm and commanding grip. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I’m assuming you’re here to talk about Sean Higgins?” He bent his head down and shook it. “Sad thing. Sean was good people.”
“He was,” I said. “We’ve got a few questions about the ranches and how things work around here.”
“Sure thing,” he said smiling. “Let’s go inside.” He pointed to the right where a fenced area with several pigs charged around a kiddie pool as a young man dressed similarly to Cooper filled it with water.
I stopped to watch them bump into each other and snort then finally heave their chunky bodies into the water. “That’s adorable.”
“The pigs get a little rowdy when they go swimming,” he said.
Sometime after we solved the case, I’d come back and watch the pigs swim.
The main office area was similar to Sean and Connie’s. A small store, a large counter, and offices.
A woman sat at the counter clicking on a mouse as she stared at a laptop screen. “We’ve got three today hon,” she said to Cooper with her head still down. When she looked up, she looked surprised to see us. “Oh, we’ve got guests. I didn’t realize.”
Cooper introduced us to his wife Julia. After a brief amount of chatter, we walked into his office. He offered us two chairs while he leaned against his desk. We chose to stand. Sitting put us in the submissive position, and as detectives, we needed to either be on level, or preferably, in the dominant position.
“So,” he said. “What can I tell you?”
“How well did you know Sean?” Bishop asked.
“Well enough to respect him, but not enough to call him a friend. We were more like acquaintances.” He smiled. “If you want to know where I was the day he died, I was here. I’ve got several employees who can confirm that.”
“Good to know,” I said. “You were at Rucker’s with Mr. Baxter and Mr. Higgins, correct? When you were seen arguing.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I was there, but I wasn’t part of the discussion. I stopped the fight and that was it.”
“What did he get heated about?” Bishop asked.
“I’m not sure. From what I gathered, I walked in just after it started. I can’t say who started the argument, but Baxter was telling Sean to back off. Sean didn’t like hearing that. He leaned in toward Baxter and looked like he was going to throw a punch, so I stepped in between them.”
Given his stature, I had a feeling both Sean and Baxter backed off. “What happened next?”
“Baxter told Sean it was his last warning and left.”
“And Sean?”
“He said I didn’t have to do that, but he thanked me, then said something about Baxter being scum.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Sean was right, and I’d only met the guy once.
“Did you think to tell us about this before or even after Sean died?” Bishop asked.
“What’s to tell? Two men argued and almost threw fists. That’s a daily thing where I’m from.”
“You’re from Texas, correct?” I asked.
He smiled. “I’ve been here too long if you can’t tell by my accent. South Texas, around Corpus Christi. My dad has a horse ranch out there. My grandfather had a cattle ranch, and since neither of them decided to leave them to me, I went to college in Georgia, met Julia, and let’s just say the rest is history.”
“How many horses do you have?” I asked.
“Right now? Six.”
“Where do you buy your horses?” Bishop asked.
“Kentucky. I only buy thoroughbreds.”
“Have you ever purchased from Texas?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “This about the cartel thing in Florida that happened a while back?” He squinted as if staring at something, but all that was behind me was a wall. “Hernandez, I think.”
“And you know about that how?” I asked.
“Horses are my bread and butter, ma’am. It’s my job to be informed.”
“What about the drugs?” I purposefully didn’t provide details to see what he knew.
His upper lip twitched slightly. It reminded me of what Kyle did when I’d humor him unintentionally. “What about it?”
“Know anything about it?” I asked.
“I know my horses are clean, if that’s what you’re asking. I would never dose them with performance drugs, nor would I ever allow them to be mules.” He leaned forward, crossed his right foot over his left and then his arms over his chest and said, “What’s this got to do with Sean Higgins? Was he transporting fentanyl from Mexico?” He shook his head. “I mean, I didn’t know the guy that well, but I can’t see it. Seems too honest to me.”
“What about Baxter?” Bishop asked.
Cooper’s eyes widened. “You think that windbag’s working for the cartel?” He laughed. “I haven’t given him enough credit if he is.”
“You think it’s smart working for the cartel?” Bishop asked.
He laughed again. “Hell no, but I also don’t think Baxter’s got the balls to do it. That’s what I mean.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Listen, I grew up in South Texas. As you know, the cartel is a big threat there. This kind of thing happens there all the time. You see a sicario, you turn around and walk the other way.”
If Cooper knew the term sicario, he knew about the cartel. Sicarios were the muscles, the ones no one wanted knocking at their door. If they knocked. If they walked toward you, you ran. “Go on,” I said.
“You know the cartel doesn’t mess around. If they hooked Baxter, there’s a reason. He went because they had something on him, or he needed something from them.”
“What do you think that could be?” Bishop asked.
“Money.” He flicked his head to the side as if to point it toward Baxter’s ranch. “The cartel can see a weak man from a mile away. Weak and broke, that is.” He smirked. “You think Baxter’s involved in Higgins’s death. Was he murdered?”
“We’re investigating,” I said.
“The tranq drug?” he asked. “If Sean overdosed, and it was from that, then you’ve got a livestock or large animal vet wrapped up in this crazy too.” He shook his head and half laughed. “Damn, never thought I’d see that come up here. Poor Baxter. If he’s in, he won’t be around long, especially if they know he’s on your radar.”
“You know about the tranq drug?”
“Again, ma’am, horses are my wheelhouse. I make it a point to know everything related to them. I can tell you this. If Baxter’s working for the cartel, he ought to be coming to you, not the other way around.”
Cooper knew his stuff. If Baxter was involved, which I was confident he was, then he didn’t have long. The trick would be getting to him and making him flip on the cartel before they got to him. And even trickier was getting to him before the feds got involved. If that happened, we’d be out, and Sean’s murder would be tagged a suicide for sure. The feds didn’t care about a small ranch owner in the middle of the Atlanta ‘burbs. They cared about the drug bust, especially during an election year.
“Have you ever discussed the drug with a vet or anyone from the horse community?”
“Sure. It’s come up. Everyone’s had their concerns. Xylazine is a necessary drug for large animal vets. If the government tries to regulate it, we have a problem. The problem is, it’s killing people. Even if it’s not mixed with fentanyl, too much is still lethal, and something needs to be done.”
He was right. The problem was what that something would be. “And you’ve had this discussion with Sean Higgins or Mason Baxter?”
“Like I said, it’s come up. I’m as anti-drug as you’ll get, but I know our vets need to use xylazine. I also see how it’s a revenue generator for the cartel. But, if you’re looking for quick cash, and you’re stupid, aligning yourself with the cartel and a vet willing to remove the drugs from the horse, or say, provide the xylazine to the cartel, it’s a no brainer.”
“Let me get this straight,” I said, wanting to confirm what I thought. “The cartel ships horses with fentanyl to the states where a rancher buys them, then a vet removes the drugs. Does the vet mix the drugs?”
“Yes to most of that. As for who mixes the two, I’m not sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s someone from the cartel located here.”
“A vet couldn’t get a hold of that much xylazine,” Bishop said. “They’ve got to be getting it somewhere else.”
“It wouldn’t take much to get someone high,” Cooper said. “It’s meant to knock out a horse. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know anyone big enough to handle something like that.”
“The trick is finding who’s providing the xylazine and who’s mixing them,” I said.
“I can’t say,” Cooper said. “Is there anything else?”
“We understand the employees switch ranches,” Bishop said. “We’d like to talk to yours.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “I’ve got a small room in the stables. It’s closer to my guys. I’ll bring you there. You want them all at once or one at a time?”
“One at a time,” Bishop said. “How many are there?”
“Today? Only three. I may have some day workers tomorrow.”
Neither of us cared about his day workers’ immigration status, so we moved on. “We might come back,” I said.
“No problem, but I can’t promise the day workers will stick around to talk.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Y’all want some water or coffee?”
“Water would be great,” we both said.
19
The ranch manager lived above the stables in a small apartment. His wife was just leaving as we walked over.
“Sarah,” Cooper said. “These are detectives from Hamby PD.”
She laced her fingers together and smiled at us briefly. “Hello.” She turned toward Cooper. “Are you looking for Ray? He went upstairs for a second. He should be right down.”
“Thanks,” Cooper said. “You heading to work?”
“Yes sir.”
“Have a good day then,” he said. He watched her as she walked toward the parking area. “Poor girl’s had it rough. Lost a baby last month. She was four months along.”
“That’s terrible,” I said.
A tall, lanky man with lean muscles and very little fat walked out of the stables. He smiled and approached Cooper when he saw us. “Morning, Ben. You looking for me?” He gave Bishop and me a good once over. “New customers?”
“Hamby PD Detectives,” I said. I extended my hand. “Rachel Ryder. This is my partner, Rob Bishop. We’re here to talk with you and the other employees about something.”
“Ray Davis.”
He made eye contact with Cooper. “Answer their questions,” Cooper said. “When you’re done, send in the others one by one. Let them know I’ve given approval to tell them whatever they want to know.”
“Yes, sir,” Ray said as he tipped his head down once.
We sat in the small room inside the stables. It wasn’t exactly a conference room, but it did have a table and a few chairs. I opened my bottled water and wet my throat while Bishop explained why we were there. A quick glance around the room told me there were no security cameras, but I wasn’t surprised. Cooper seemed like the kind of guy that trusted his employees, though I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, and it didn’t take possible theft into account.
“I knew Sean,” Ray said. “He was a good guy. Can’t believe he’s gone. Rumors say he accidentally overdosed, but I don’t believe it. That wasn’t Sean. Do you think that was the case?”
“We’re investigating,” Bishop said. “When was the last time you spoke to Mr. Higgins?”
“I saw him the other night at the fair.” He tapped his finger on the table. I noticed dirt underneath his short nail. “Come to think of it, he was acting strange.”
“Strange how?” I asked though I suspected I already knew.
“Worried. Maybe a little paranoid. It was strange. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I haven’t seen him act like that.”
“Did he appear under the influence?” Bishop asked.
He dragged his hand down his cheeks. “If he was, I didn’t notice, but like I said, that wasn’t him.”
“Are you aware of any conflict between Mr. Higgins and any of the other ranch owners in town?”
“I mean, sure, there was competition, but mostly Mr. Baxter at Haverty Ranch was the one to compete.” He shook his head briefly. “With all due respect, the man walks like he’s got a stick up his ass. Thinks he’s better than the rest of us.”
I bit my lip. It was a perfect description of Baxter. “Is he?” I asked. “Better than the rest of you?”
“If you like entitled rich boys who get their money from their dad, then yeah. I prefer associating with men who make a name for themselves.”
“Like Mr. Cooper?” Bishop asked.
He nodded. “I’ve worked for him for two years now. Before I was with Haverty. Ben’s good people.”
“Were you involved in Baxter’s horse sales?” I asked.
His easy-going expression hardened. He stared at me for a moment before saying, “Initially, but I came to work for Ben after a horse died.”
“How did the horse die?” I asked.
“According to the vet? Cardiac arrest.”
“This was over two years ago?” I asked to confirm.
“Yes, ma’am. The whole thing seemed a little strange to me. Now he’s had a few more die. Can’t say for sure what’s going on, but the horse that died, and a bunch of other ones he sold? They weren’t race quality horses. He sold them as such, but it must have been to some stupid-ass people because if they knew horses, they’d know they weren’t race quality.”
“What was the difference?”
“Type of horse, age, general condition. Looked like he was buying rejects. I didn’t trust him, so I left.”
“William Habersham was the vet?” Bishop asked.
Through gritted teeth, he said “Yes.”
“Not a fan of him either?” I asked.
“You could say that. I’m not comfortable with his work ethic.”
“Tell us about it,” Bishop said.
According to Davis, Habersham was locally grown, and a graduate from the University of Georgia for his bachelors and vet medicine degrees. He specialized in large animals and livestock, but saw other animals as well, and he overcharged his clients. Davis thought he was shady.
“I don’t like accusing people of things when I don’t have the facts, but Baxter’s lost several horses to heart problems on his watch. Just confirms to me the horses Baxter buys aren’t race quality.”
“It confirms that how?” I asked.
“If Baxter supposedly buys race horses and resells them, common sense would say if one died from a hereditary heart condition, he wouldn’t buy another from that bloodline. So, how’s he getting so many horses with heart conditions?”
We couldn’t ask him about the tranq drug directly without leading him that direction, so I nudged him as best I could. “What do you think’s happening?”
“He’s killing the horses for the insurance money, maybe? I can’t say. Whatever the reason, I think Habersham is involved because when he was unavailable and we were dealing with a sick horse, Baxter used another vet. None of those horses ever died.” Someone knocked on the door. “It’s open,” Davis said.
A younger man, maybe in his early twenties with a perfectly styled Flock of Seagulls hairdo peeked in. “We’re grooming in stall six, but she’s got a lot of energy right now. We’ve got to get her out for a run first.”
Davis nodded. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” the kid said and closed the door.
Davis smirked. “Lola’s a little hard to handle.”
“Most women are,” Bishop said.
I just rolled my eyes, but Davis laughed. “She’s a dam. We’re hoping for a foal this year, but we’ll see. If we’re finished here, I’ll switch out with one of the ranch hands and send him in.”
“Actually,” I said. “I’d love to see the dam. Can we walk out with you?”
“You ride?” he asked.
“Taking lessons, but not for a few months.”
“Where?”
“In Alpharetta.”
“You ever feel like coming here, Ben will cut you a deal. Unlike Baxter, he does it because he loves to ride.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said and followed him into the horse stall area. Though I did want a look at the horses, I was more interested in checking out the stables themselves. Since the small room didn’t have security, I wondered if the rest of the place did. There hadn’t been any horse thefts since I started at Hamby, but there was always a chance.
Lola had been cooped up in the stall all night. I was still learning about caring for horses, but I knew enough to know it wasn’t smart to go straight from a night in the stall to tied and groomed for some horses. Horses could be reactive. They needed to release energy, and for some, making them feel trapped with ties after hours in a stall wasn’t an effective way to start a grooming process.
“We can continue our conversation at the paddock if you’re okay with that,” Davis said.
“Works for me,” I said. Bishop agreed.
Lola and the two hands were still in the stall. Lola wasn’t happy to see them, and whatever they were trying to do, which I assumed was slip on her halter, wasn’t going well. Davis jogged over to help while Bishop and I took our time.
I glanced up at the ceiling but saw no security cameras. “Look,” I said quietly and pointed to the ceiling.
“There were two outside the entrance. Maybe there’s an alarm. Davis lives above. It wouldn’t be hard for him to get down here fast, and I’m not sure he’s someone I’d want to mess with.”
A ticking sound distracted me. I froze for a second and then grabbed Bishop’s arm and stopped. “Do you hear that?” We shared a look. My heart quickened, my ears straining to catch the faint sound I knew indicated trouble. I swept my gaze around the stables searching for any shadows, any movement that might betray an unseen presence. Beads of sweat formed on my temples. I focused on the ticking to try to locate it.
