“It means I was right to be worried.”
“You’re not making any sense right now, Chris.”
“I called Simon,” he says.
“Simon who?”
“Simon Cooper, Jessa,” he says with exasperation. “Your landlord.”
“Okay?” I say, trying to reign in my confusion. “Why?”
“I mentioned Freya. I asked about her lease. He had no clue who she was.”
I can’t tell if the chill I’m feeling is a result of the wind or if it’s something else entirely. “Maybe he was confused.”
“He’s the landlord. He knows who he’s renting to. And he said he never rented an apartment to anyone named Freya. But he did rent the apartment below yours—to a man. Apparently, it was a short-term rental agreement and the man in question paid in cash.”
I’m gripping the phone so tightly my hand is actually starting to hurt. “I’ve been in her apartment, Chris. She was definitely living there.”
“I don’t know who that bitch is,” he growls. “But she’s not who she says she is, Jessa. Get the hell out of there, do you hear me?”
“Chris—”
“I’m serious. You don’t follow your instincts, Jess. But this time, I’m going to need you to dig down deep and listen.” He’s pleading with me, his voice breaking with fear. “And if you can’t do that, then at least listen to me. Trust me. You promised me you would, remember?”
Had I promised him that? At this point, I’m not sure. Then again, I’m not sure of anything anymore.
“Please,” he continues desperately. “Please, Jess. Don’t trust her. Don’t act differently, either. Just get your shit and go. If you can’t get your things, then leave them. They’re not important. You are.”
I hear something behind me and my grip around the phone tightens. “I’ve got to go.”
“Jess—”
I hang up before he’s done talking.
Then I turn to find Freya looking right at me.