He may have failed high-school science, but during the past two decades, he’s mastered the process of making crystal methamphetamine.
“I’m sick and tired of it.” Rocky is a clandestine chemist.
“I hate it, too,” Rocky mutters from behind the wheel. If the cops show up, it’ll be his third strike, and that means 25-to-life in most Northern California counties. That’s why he’s not exactly enthusiastic about going to the crank lab tonight. Moore has been to a lot of bad places, prison being the worst, and he isn’t keen on returning. The big four-wheel drive chases its shadow across the Sacramento Valley floor, carrying Moore, Rocky and Ed east, toward the foothills.
“I hate to be where we’re going tonight,” Moore says.
