There was a moment when it all went wrong. At breakfast Stephen was looking out the window as a small green bird swooped up close to the glass. PING! Stephen’s wife, Susan, asked him if something was upsetting him. They were newly married. All the drawers in their kitchen were open and she was sitting on the floor, organizing their flatware, silver, half-arranged. Stephen suggested that they have sex on the kitchen table but Susan declined. She hadn’t brushed her teeth yet.

For days Stephen had been doing whatever he could to avoid talking with Susan about his friend Curtis. Curtis was driving through town that evening and needed a place to stay. In college, Curtis had smoked too much marijuana one night, had a bad reaction, and murdered his off-campus roommate, a twenty-two-year-old girl. After serving ten years in prison, he was out and trying to get his life back on track. Would it be safe for Stephen and his new wife to host Curtis, who had murdered a girl and served only ten years? Curtis was a calm man who claimed he had run into bad luck. He’d sent Stephen letters from prison recounting his lifelong troubles. His late father, years ago, had turned out to be a pedophile, Curtis had stabbed his roommate, only his mother and older brother were normal.