Page 3 of Tracking Safety

Her lungs seized when several articles popped up.

Martin Bennett . . . he’d been killed in a hit-and-run two months ago.

Was his death connected to this list somehow?

She could hardly breathe as she searched the next name.

Rick Stephens was also dead. Six months ago. Boating accident.

Her husband wasn’t running an import business, was he? Ellie had never exactly understood what that entailed. She’d chosen not to ask too many questions.

Now she could see where that might have been a lapse in judgment. What had she gotten herself into when she married this man? Who exactly had she made a commitment to?

From somewhere inside the apartment, a door closed.

Her back went ramrod straight.

Roderick . . . was he home early? No one else would just walk in. It had to be him.

Panic raced through her.

She quickly shoved the folder back into the filing cabinet and closed the drawer.

Sweat already spread across her forehead.

She couldn’t be caught in here.

She rushed toward the door. Before she reached it, Roderick appeared.

“Roderick . . . you’re home early.” She smoothed her black dress pants.

He stared at her with slow, deliberate assessment. His gaze moved from her face to the filing cabinet then back to her face.

She held her breath as she waited.

Her husband was handsome. He’d always been handsome with his dark hair, strong jaw, and a face that made people want to trust him before he’d said a word. Ellie had trusted him before he’d said a word.

Was that a mistake?

Finally, his expression settled back into something hospitable.

“My Ellie . . . I thought we agreed you shouldn’t be in here.” His voice sounded pleasant, but an edge crept beneath it.

“I was looking for my passport.” She forced her hands to remain still at her sides, desperate to sound casual. “I’ve looked everywhere else. The door was open, and I thought maybe you’d put it in here for safekeeping.”

Something flickered in his gaze. “And did you find it?”

“No.”

He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room.

As he did, Ellie made herself remain where she was. Moving away from him might signal that she was frightened—and that she’d done something wrong.

She had to play it cool. Every instinct told her so.

“You should have called me,” Roderick said. “I would have told you where to look.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are at work.”