I dialed Andrusha’s number. “Who is this?” he answered in Russian. “Hey, Krista,” I said. “I just got out of jail. You have a moment?” “Talk.” Andrusha knew something was up. I feigned my end of the conversation to give him as many details as possible. “My phone is dead, so I’m borrowing my neighbor’s cell.” “Where is this?” “No, not far, just a couple doors down.” “Where is Charlie?” “She left me and she took off.” “She’d never do that.” “The cops broke my phone. No, don’t call them. I’ll deal with them on my own.” I was telling him Charlie was missing, where I was, that I didn’t have a cell,
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