Travis had an active court history he was keeping out of sight.

At five o’clock the late sun hung low behind the bare oaks on Maple Street.

Michael carried a pair of black winter boots up the concrete steps to Lena’s front porch.

He knocked twice on the wooden door frame.

The heavy inner door swung open.

Lena stood in the hall behind the metal mesh of the screen door, spinning her silver wedding band nervously around her middle finger.

“Noah left these in my trunk last week,” Michael told him.