Excerpt
Lying on the dresser are mounds of receipts. From filling stations, mostly, across the Heartland. There’s a receipt for $2,775 worth of nitromethane gas—whatever that is—from an Ennis, Texas, racetrack. And another for ammonium nitrate from a farm co-op in McPherson, Kansas.And then you see it: a handful of crystals lying in a baggie in the top dresser drawer. A stray meth pipe and brown paper bags. Numerous brown paper bags. Ghastly evidence.Timothy McVeigh is gone, you think. Too far gone.