Page 7 of Tracking Safety

“You want me to spy on my husband?” Her lips parted in shock.

Was he really asking this? This whole conversation felt surreal, like a nightmare she’d wake up from.

“I want you to help us build a case against your husband and his associates.”

The memory of Roderick gripping her wrist hit her like a slap. Dangerous undercurrents had lined the action, a subtle threat of what he could do to her if he wanted.

If Roderick found out she was spying on him . . . he might actually hurt her.

Or kill her.

Could she really turn on her husband? Could she gather information that might send him to prison?

Terror shot through her.

She glanced back at the agent. “And if I say no?”

He stared at her before saying in a solemn voice, “Then I’d encourage you to think very carefully about your situation.”

He reached into his coat and produced his phone, turning the screen toward her.

A woman she didn’t recognize stared back at her. Blonde hair, maybe thirty, smiling at the camera in what looked like a backyard somewhere.

“Her name was Penny Caruso. She was married to one of Roderick’s associates for three years. Fourteen months ago, she died in a car accident.”

Ellie looked at the woman’s smile and said nothing.

He swiped to the next photograph.

She froze at the picture. She knew that face. Light brown hair cut just below the chin, warm hazel eyes, and the kind of smile that immediately made you feel at ease.

Ellie had sat next to that woman at a dinner party a couple of years ago. The woman had leaned over and whispered something about the centerpiece that had made Ellie laugh out loud for the first time all evening.

Katilyn Almeida had been the first friend Ellie had made after she started dating Roderick.

“As you know, Katilyn fell from a balcony in Miami last year. Her death was ruled accidental. Investigators said she had too much to drink. Called it a tragedy.”

Ellie swallowed hard. She’d been at the funeral. She’d held Katilyn’s mother’s hand and cried and thought what a terrible, senseless thing it was to lose someone so young, so full of life, to something as random as a fall.

Ellie hadn’t questioned her death for a single moment.

Until now.

“And this is Sandra Reeves.” A third photograph—a redhead, mid-thirties, caught laughing at something off-camera. “Drowned. Lake Michigan. Eighteen months ago.”

The tremble inside her only got stronger.

“Spouses who become inconvenient tend not to stay inconvenient for long,” Connelly murmured. “The Barone family is very good at solving problems.”

Suddenly, Ellie couldn’t breathe.

Roderick would never hurt her . . . would he?

“There’s something else you should know.” He pocketed his phone. “The Barone family has enemies. Serious ones. People who want the entire organization dismantled—and everyone connected to it. When those people come for Roderick, Mrs. Barone, they won’t stop to ask whether you knew what your husband was doing.”

She set her coffee on the elevator’s handrail. Her arms shook so badly that she didn’t trust herself to keep holding it.

“And if you’re thinking you can simply walk away, I’d encourage you to reconsider that as well. You’ve been married to Roderick for two years. You’ve met his associates.” He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. “You could be charged as an accessory, Mrs. Barone. The evidence of your presence alone would be enough to open that door.”