The Rabbi interjected, “Remember that it’s April, Alek. April 19 is the anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. Anybody trying to blow something up would be stockpiling fertilizer now. It takes a ton of fertilizer for a major explosion. That’s fifty bags. Bottom line, I agree with Curt. I’m backing him.”

Alek threw up his hands. “Why? Because some kid has a T-shirt? He could’ve gotten it at Target. Curt, you said so in your own report, didn’t you?”

“What I wrote in my report was that I talked to the manager at Target, and he told me that only the Booster moms buy T-shirts at Target. The store never sells any large or the extralarge, only the extrasmall and small.” Chris thought ahead to preempt Alek’s next objection. “And don’t think that the kid in the video wore the T-shirt to frame a member of the baseball team, because there’s no way they could’ve known about the security camera.”

Alek scoffed. “But what kind of an idiot would wear a team uniform to steal something?”

“Not an idiot, a kid. I’ve been a teacher for two days and I can tell you they do dumb stuff. Especially the boys. They don’t think anything through.”

“Not that dumb. All it takes is one kid to buy the T-shirt or one mom to buy a larger size.”

“Then assign another agent to follow up with Target. I can’t do it myself with my cover, and the video alone isn’t enough for probable cause. We can get the name, address, and credit card of everybody who bought a Musketeers T-shirt in the past five years. I think it was a newish one because the color stayed true.” Chris had washed four T-shirts thirty times to see when the color faded. The answer was, the twenty-third time.

“We don’t have the agent to spare.”

“I’m making progress. Like I told you, I’m in: I picked my guy, Jordan Larkin.”

“Is that the name of your unwitting?” the Rabbi asked. An unwitting was the ATF term for an informant who was being pumped for information without knowing that he was part of an undercover operation.

“Yes, and he’s perfect. It took me only two days to befriend him, that’s step one, and step two, I’ll cast my net wider to find who stole the fertilizer.” Chris hit REWIND, stopping the video when the shadowy image first entered the room. “The height of the doorway in the shed is eighty inches, and this figure is over six feet tall, between six-one and six-five. There are five boys on my varsity team who are over six feet tall. Three of them are the ones in my AP Government class, including my unwitting—Jordan Larkin, Raz Sematov, and Evan Kostis.” Chris kept talking, though Alek glanced at his watch. “Step two is to get to know the other two players who are over six feet tall, Trevor Kiefermann and Dylan McPhee. I’m investigating them and I know I’m going to get a break.”

“When?” Alek snapped.

“I have three days left until the nineteenth, if what they’re planning is an anniversary bombing. Give me three days.” Chris pointed again at the video. “In addition to which, the timing makes absolute sense for it to be a baseball player. A player leaving practice when it was over would arrive at Mr. Vrasaya’s farm, park his car, and run to the shed exactly when this happens, which is 6:20. I drove the distance myself. Then he still gets home in time, and nobody is the wiser, except for the fact that his trunk is filled with ammonium nitrate.”

“What does he do with it then? Does he hand it off? Does he store it at his house?”

“I don’t know but I’m gonna find out.”

“One question, Curt,” the Rabbi interjected. “What about your unwitting, Larkin? Do you suspect him?”

“No,” Chris answered. “Again, I’m going with my gut. Jordan Larkin doesn’t fit the profile for a domestic terrorist. He’s quiet, a rules follower, and a good kid.”

Alek ignored them both. “I still don’t understand what the teacher had to do with it. Yomes, the one who committed suicide.”

“Maybe Abe knew something. Maybe he saw something. Maybe he overheard something. He was a connected, inquisitive guy. It’s too coincidental otherwise.” Chris hadn’t yet found the connection, but he’d asked around at practice and determined that all five boys had Abe Yomes for Language Arts. “He was the one who asked me about Wyoming.”

“So it was a lucky break he died.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Chris shot back, cringing inwardly. He couldn’t think of Abe’s death that way, and before Abe had died, Chris had decided to immerse himself in Wyoming trivia, in order to answer Abe’s many questions.

“It’s a suicide, no question, according to the locals. Yomes hung himself. His boyfriend told them he had a history of depression.”

The Rabbi interjected, “Curt, I understand that Yomes was African-American and gay. Did you see any facts that would suggest the possibily of a hate crime? Any evidence of a neo-Nazi group? Are you seeing anything like that at the high school, or on the team?”

“Not yet,” Chris answered, then turned back to Alek. “Let the locals think whatever they think. Yomes told me about his depression himself, but it sounded like it was in the past. I’m going to follow up.”

“But Yomes has no connection to the baseball team, does he?”

“Other than he taught my five guys? No, not that I know of, yet.” Chris had been wondering if there was some secret connection there, maybe one of the players was in the closet, but he didn’t have enough information on which to float a theory.

“Curt, I’m unconvinced.” Alek shook his head. “We have bigger cases.”

“The Oklahoma City bombing was the most deadly act of domestic terrorism in the country. It doesn’t get much bigger than that. In this political climate, with feelings against the government, it’s only a matter of time until it happens again.”

“We’re not hearing anything. Nothing unusual, no chatter, no leads.”

“That could mean they’re good at it. Or a small group. Or a loner. I’ve got my eye on a few kids on the team, who spoke against the goverment in one of my classes. I did an exercise to see who felt that way. I’m asking for three days. Three more days, until the anniversary on the nineteenth.”

Alek frowned. “Curt, you’re killing me. You’ve made a name for yourself in the most dangerous operations. I can’t believe you want this one, with a bunch of high-school kids. It’s like Jump Street, for God’s sake!”