“Even though Chris didn’t exactly approve of me?”
I wave her concern away. “He’s just possessive of me sometimes.”
“Yeah, that and the fact that he’s in love with you.”
I give her a warning look. “Freya.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not.”
“You should explore that,” she says. “He’s a good man. And he’s good for you. Unlike Anton Stepanov.”
My attention snaps up. I frown at her. “Have I mentioned his last name to you before?”
She looks guilty for a second. “I… I may have done some research.”
“Did you actually find anything?” I ask incredulously.
She nods, but I can tell by her expression that whatever she’s found is not good. “A thing or two, yeah.”
“Oh God. What is it?”
“It was just some obscure little article tucked into an online newspaper. It reported on his wife’s death.”
“What did it say?”
“That her death was ruled a suicide but there was quite a lot of skepticism surrounding it. The article was more about the prestige of power. The fact that you can literally get away with murder if you have enough money.”
I frown as that processes in my head. “Oh.”
“It had obviously been buried in the annals of the internet, Jessa,” she tells me regretfully. “I had to do a lot of digging to find it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I’m telling you now,” she says. “I only found it last night. I figured the more we know about the guy, the better.”
I’m touched that she’s gone to such great lengths for me. “Okay, but the article wasn’t, like, definitive, was it?”
“How could it be? It was written by some amateur with a readership that probably consists of blood relatives exclusively. I bet no one took the article seriously, so she published it on the only online rag willing to take the risk.”
“Maybe they didn’t take it seriously because it’s just a rumor.”
“There’s no smoke without fire, Jessa.”
“You think he did it?” I ask, feeling my heart start to race.
“I’m just looking at what we know,” she hedges. “We know he’s a murderer. You saw that with your own eyes. So it’s a possibility that he killed his wife, right?”
“Right,” I say hesitantly. “But—”
“Jessa,” she says, reaching out to take my hand, “listen to me. I’ve been in the exact same position you are now. Torn between my feelings and my instincts. Trust me, I understand how they can pull you in two different directions. He’s a beautiful man, but he’s deadly. And I think leaving might be a good idea.”
My heart sinks, despite the fact that it’s exactly the plan I’ve been contemplating since the dinner last night. “Yeah.”
“But do you think returning the phone is the best idea?” she asks. “It might still be nice to have some insurance when you run.”
“You think I should keep the phone?”