Early one morning last September, Melanie Cerdan-Rabaud was working on the western France stud farm she has owned for a decade when one of her neighbors called to say he had found a horse corpse in a nearby field.
Luxury, a foal, lay dead among the first autumn leaves, his blood still fresh on the grass. It looked to Cerdan-Rabaud as if the body had been dragged. When she peered closer, her heart sank. In that instant, she knew: The horse-killer gang had struck again.
