For several blocks, Barbara continued her trajectory toward the Crenshaw home. Fortunately for her, her true destination lay only a few blocks north of the detour she had felt compelled to take. She hated to lie to Mario, but he had absolutely no vision. A brilliant mind, she knew, and a heart of gold, but not a lot of backbone.

In honesty, she had felt deeply touched by his offer to go to Calloway's the first time, and even more so the second. It showed how much he really cared for her, and she did not take such affection lightly. His good intentions, however, would not really save Marissa. Not only that, but his intentions would never prove as good as the conviction necessary to stop Carson McReynolds. Barbara sighed to herself as she turned north.

She tried to believe that her actions would ensure Marissa's safety, and they might if everything worked perfectly. If Barbara could successfully cut off the head of the snake, in other words Carson McReynolds, then perhaps the rest of the snake would crumble to the ground. Barbara's only concern grew from the idea that the convulsing tail of the snake might whip around and sting Marissa before it turned to dust.

Perhaps Barbara should come out publicly, give permission to use her name. Perhaps just seeing Barbara's name would deflect attention from the more innocent of the trio that had begun the ill-advised paper a few weeks before. Unfortunately, Barbara would risk not only her own name by such an admission, but her father's as well. And, of course, she couldn't expose Mario without his permission. He might have, given his new-found penchant for chivalry, offered to take all the blame on himself, but for Barbara to ask, she would have to reveal her plans, and Mario would no doubt try to stop her.

She didn't usually shy from conflict, but she had no desire to beat Mario in an argument. To do so would perhaps damage their relationship in a way well-intentioned deception wouldn't. Barbara didn't ask herself what the reality of the thought meant about either herself or – dare she say it? - her sweetheart. Instead, she just took things at face value. She would accomplish her purpose, Mario would chastise her, everything would work out, and then he would forgive her. Perhaps she loved him as much for his indulgent nature as for his intelligence.

As she approached the well-apportioned home before her, Barbara took a steeling breath. By morning, she would know which way the wind would blow, or more accurately, which way the snake would fall.