Page 1 of Tracking Safety

PROLOGUE

Her passport had to be somewhere around here.

Ellie Barone retraced her steps through the apartment for the third time, checking the drawer beside the bed, the shelf in the entryway, and the small basket near the front door where miscellaneous things accumulated.

Nothing.

She only had a couple of weeks until she left with her husband, Roderick, for her vacation in Mexico, and she couldn’t find the passport anywhere.

She stood in the hallway and considered where else it might be.

Her gaze stopped on Roderick’s office. The door was open an inch, which was unusual. As a rule, he kept it shut. He kept everything about that room closed and sealed off from the rest of their life together as if it were a separate country she didn’t have a visa to visit.

It’s just my work stuff, sweetheart. Nothing that would interest you. But because of the nature of what I do, some of it is classified. That’s why it’s locked up.

Early in their marriage she’d found his mysteriousness charming. She liked the idea of a man with a whole professional world she didn’t need to worry about. Because until she’d married him, she’d had so much to worry about—especially things like where her rent money would come from and if she’d have enough left over for groceries. As soon as she’d turned eighteen, her parents had made her move out and support herself. They’d said it would be good for her.

She didn’t know if it had been good. But she did know it had been rough.

After Ellie and Roderick married, he’d taken care of everything—the apartment, the finances, the dinner reservations at places that required a three-month wait. He’d even paid off her student loans.

Ellie had felt like the luckiest woman in Chicago.

Then the honeymoon had ended, and she’d started noticing things she couldn’t quite explain. She’d noticed his mood shifts. The way conversations with his colleagues would suddenly stop when she walked into a room. The times he’d come home in the middle of the night with split knuckles and stories about near muggings.

She hadn’t pushed for details. She’d learned by then not to push. Whenever she did, the simmering anger in his gaze made her go cold. He’d never touched her. But that look frightened her enough that she stayed in her place.

Ellie had been explaining all of it away for months. People had complicated professional lives. Roderick was a private person. She was probably reading too much into things.

Was that all true? Or was she just making excuses?

She hesitated another moment and glanced at her watch. Roderick wasn’t due home for another three hours.

It couldn’t hurt to search for her passport in his office. She just needed to stay focused and to keep Roderick’s business paperwork private. She could do that.

She pushed the door open and paused.

The room was immaculate with dark mahogany, leather chairs, and bookshelves lined with books she doubted her husband had ever read. A Persian rug covered the hardwood floor. A massive wooden desk stood at the center of the space.

Normal. Everything looked normal.

So why did she feel so nervous?

She didn’t know, but she just needed to get this over with. Being in his office was really no big deal. It shouldn’t be, at least.

She checked Roderick’s desk first—the surface then the shallow middle drawer.

No passport.

She tried the side drawers.

Pens, a phone charger, and other miscellaneous items.

Nothing useful.

She crossed to the filing cabinet and tugged at one of the drawers.

It was locked.