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PROLOGUE

I KNEW opening that red door would destroy my life

Yes, that soundson either, and true, there was nothingabout the red door In fact, the door was beyond ordinary, wood and fourpaneled, the kind of door you see standing guard in front of three out of every four suburban homes, with faded paint and a knocker at chest level no one ever used and a faux brass knob

But as I walked toward it, a distant streetlight barely illu like aof dooreat effort, as if I alking not along a soh still-wet ceup on le in the scalp? Right there

The house was dark, not a single light on Chynna warnedsomehow seemed a little too cookie-cutter, a little too nondescript That bothered me for some reason This house was also isolated at the tippy end of the cul-de-sac, hunkering down in the darkness as though fending off intruders

I didn’t like it

I didn’t like anything about this, but this is what I do When Chynna called I had just finished coaching the inner-city fourth-grade Newark Biddy Basketball team My team, all kids who, like me, were products of foster care (we call ourselves the NoRents, which is short for No Parents—gallows hued to blow a six-point lead with two reat under pressure

Chynna called as I was gathering aes soet thea with “Hands in” and then we yell, “Defense,” choosing to chant that word, I suppose, because we play none

“Dan?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Chynna Please come”

Her voice trembled, so I dismissed my team, jumped in my car, and noas here I hadn’t even had tiym sweat mixed noith the smell of fear sweat I slowed my pace

What rong with me?

I probably should have showered, for one thing I’ood without a shower Never have been But Chynna had been adaot horay T-shirt darkened with perspiration and clinging toto that door

Like sters I ith, Chynna was seriously troubled, andbells I hadn’t liked her voice on the phone, hadn’t really warlanced behind ns of life on this suburban night—house lights, a flickering television or e door—but in this cul-de-sac, there was nothing, not a sound or movement, just a hush in the dark

My cell phone vibrated, nearly ured that it was Chynna, but no, it was Jenna, my ex-wife I hit answer and said, “Hey”

“Can I ask a favor?” she asked

“I’ht now”