Oleg was at the corner of Broadway and East 12th, outside that Italian place across from The Strand, speaking on the phone to his friend Laure, who was explaining that at precisely that moment, a man was driving to her small pale house on a patch of muddy grass in a dark, gnarled corner of Montgomery, Alabama.“ How does he know where you live?” Oleg asked. “We hooked up before,” Laure said casually, entirely too casually, Oleg thought.