Wait a minute.

Julia inched toward the fence, straining for a closer look at the tail. The Thoroughbred was a dun. It had a clover-shaped star and the familiar, dark-brown eyes. It also had that unique flaxen tail that Julia had stared at in dozens of pictures at the Prestons.

The Prestons’ veterinarian, Carter Phillips, had found a stallion in California two months ago that he swore was a twin to Leopold’s Legacy. Julia realized she had now found a triplet.

She paced alongside the animal, trying to keep up without looking conspicuous. She scanned its head, its shoulders, its withers and legs, desperately searching her brain for something definitive, something that would tell her whether this was an animal worth investigating. She wished her eye was as keen as Melanie’s or Robbie’s.

Then, she remembered her cell phone. Perfect. She’d e-mail a picture to Melanie and take it from there.

All but trotting along under the warmth of a waning desert sun, she dug into her small purse, tugging out her cell phone. Then she ran a couple of steps to get the angle right, and held up the phone.

Instantly, a white, brass-buttoned, uniformed chest stepped between her and the fence, blocking her view.

“I am very sorry, madam,” the man said, not looking sorry at all.

Julia had no choice but to stop. She tipped her head to blink into a dark, bearded face, shaded by a peaked cap.

“No pictures,” he informed her, his lips clamped in a stern line.

“I don’t understand,” she lied, glancing around, cursing the fact that the horse was getting away.

The No Photos signs were posted conspicuously around the racetrack in at least six languages-three of which Julia spoke.

“No pictures,” the man repeated. “And this is not a public area.”

She maintained her facade of confusion, still keeping an eye on the retreating dun. “But-”