Tony stood staring impotently across the plaza toward the platform where Jerome's crew finished the preparations for the rally. A small gathering of supporters had begun to form on the grass in front of the stage, faces rarely seen in the plaza because of their color. Though he wanted to cross the open space and lend a hand to the preparations, Tony couldn't reconcile himself to something that would take his attention from what had consumed him for the last couple of hours.

Somehow, he had let Marissa get away.

After he had risked so much, after he had finally gotten past the surface with her, after the ice had finally melted, she had run away from him, and he had let her get away. Perhaps Moran had already found her, and Tony would gain nothing by all of his concern, but he couldn't give up on Marissa yet. Until the moment he knew something for sure, he would just keep looking.

The thought compelled him forward.

From where he stood, Tony could see Leonard where he stared up at Doris; she had begun to warm up her soulful rendition of the national anthem. Leonard seemed almost euphoric in the excitement of the rally. Tony wondered if Marissa had sought Leonard out in his stead.

"Leonard," he called over the clanging brass instruments. Leonard did not reply, and Tony dashed across the open space until he could grab onto his friend. "Leonard, has Marissa come to see you?" Tony didn't even try to hide his anxiety.

When he saw the stress on Tony's face, Leonard's own demeanor morphed into one of concern. "I thought she was with you!"

"She was until an hour ago. I've been looking for her, but can't find her."

"Did you check her apartment?"

Tony shook his head. "That was the first place I looked, but she wasn't there. Of course, I only realized later that she had headed back toward your pop's place when she left me."

"So, you thought maybe she came back to us."

"I should have known better. She was so upset; she wouldn't want to see anyone she knew. But where would she go?"

Together, both young men looked so stricken that Jerome wandered from his perch beside the stage to address their problems. "I hope this has nothing to do with the campaign," he tried to lighten the mood with an easy smile.

"Jerome!" Tony temporarily forgot Marissa. "You shouldn't be out here until rally time! I'm not even sure you should go through with this."

"That," interrupted Leonard, "is why we have Hugo out here with his pop and some friends." Leonard pointed to a none-too-impressive, young man who stood a few yards from Leonard and Jerome. If his vigilant gaze signified anything, the young man stood guard.

"One man is not going to protect Jerome."

"It's not one man," Leonard insisted. "That one man brought a whole team with him. Don't you recognize that rather large man standing by the corner of the stage?"

Tony followed his friend's gesture and saw an impressive figure bearing the same demeanor as Hugo. After a minute, Tony began to recognize several others in the crowd who looked the same.

"Well, better," he conceded. "Though I'm not convinced."

"Remember Marissa's second story in the paper? The fighting boy? Well, the large man I showed you is his father, the precinct chief for our neighborhood. He's working with Chief Peters of the Park district to keep things safe."

"Safe from a lone gunman? Seems unlikely. How hard would it be to slip one gun past all these crowds?

Jerome, having divided his attention between a nearby conversation and that of his young friend finally turned back to Tony and Leonard.

"What are you saying, Tony? I'm not going to run scared from these thugs. Leonard has shown you all of our increased security. I'm going through with the rally, then I'm going to win the election. Apparently, whoever provided that source for Anna Cosgrove has given me a serious advantage over my opponent."

"All the more reason," Tony insisted, "why you should lie low. All you have to do is live until the election, and you're a shoe-in."

"You worry too much, Tony. Even the Morans wouldn't murder a political opponent in cold blood. They have to know that McReynolds can't hold office after this revelation. It's not as if they can create another candidate out of thin air. It's much more likely they'll wait until I'm in office and try to turn me," Jerome flashed an uncharacteristically mischievous grin. "And I shall relish repelling Moran's every attempt to influence me."

Tony couldn't see things in so light a manner, and as he glanced around the plaza at all the milling figures where they disappeared and reappeared behind the monstrous trees, Tony saw too much potential for impending danger.

With the thought of danger, though, returned the thought of Marissa, and a sense of powerlessness flooded over him. Since the moment he had lost her, he had felt powerless, and he didn't like the feeling. He scoured the gathering crowd for her face, hoping that he wouldn't see her because she had fled the city, fearing that he couldn't find her because something had happened to her.

As he took in the many generic faces, only a few stuck out, but they held no import for Tony. Under normal circumstances, such a racially mixed gathering of people would have thrown off Tony's intuition, but at the political rally of a black candidate, especially one so supported in the white community, Tony felt no great surprise at the diversity.

After a few minutes, he saw Marshall Crenshaw walk solemnly toward the stage, his daughter noticeably absent from his side. Tony had to wonder. A few minutes later, his own father, Paul Garner, entered the plaza from the university end, and at Mario's usual place stood Tony's oldest brother Carl. Tony definitely got the impression that their respective parents had told Mario and Barbara to lie low.

Tony turned back to the crowds. He definitely saw several men who bore the mien of the Moran gang, but he could discern nothing particularly threatening in their stance or posture. Of course, the gang's leader would send spies to take in the leaning of the crowd and of the politician. Still, the suspicion that had grown in Tony's mind wouldn't sleep, and even while he obsessed over the state of Marissa's health, he constantly assessed the safety of Jerome where he stood on the stage. Before the rally began, Tony would make sure to skirt the entire perimeter of the park. His determination did little to reassure him.

************

Alistair peered across the plaza with rising frustration. For fifteen minutes, he had felt forced to watch his target stand in perfect position while remaining impotent to attack. With Sam Lincoln only yards away from her, Alistair had no idea what he would risk if he accidentally hit McReynolds's right-hand man. Or, possibly, Lincoln had decided to do the job himself, though the way he leered at the girl, Lincoln might have had other things in mind.

Unfortunately, though, the girl had disappeared more rapidly than Alistair would have expected, and he had seen no sign of her since. The ensuing search meant that the masses had begun to gather by the time Alistair gave up on her and made his way toward the stage. Of course, he couldn't exactly lose the tall black man in the crowd. Smartly dressed and treated with deference by everyone, Jerome Weathers would have stood out no matter where he stood. Alistair's problem stemmed from the fact that so many people had arrived in the time he wasted, and he now had no clear shot at anyone. Even though Moran had promised a short prison term with celebrity treatment, Alistair had no desire to spend five to ten behind bars for shooting the wrong person.

As if in answer to an unlikely prayer, Jerome Weathers started toward a small cluster of men at the side of the stage, partially hidden between the stage and a grove of trees behind it. Alistair smiled to himself. He only needed to make his way to the trees, and he would find all the angle and all the escape he could ask for.

Alistair slipped to the edge of the plaza and began to skirt the perimeter. Within a short time, the jocular tenor of the gathering on the green would change drastically, and Alistair would rise even higher in Angus Moran's esteem. Angus Moran's esteem carried with it innumerable benefits, and though Alistair had grown to loathe the more violent aspects of his responsibilities, he couldn't quite give them up if they would cost him Angus's favor.

Once Alistair had finished his circumnavigation of the plaza, he came out about thirty feet from the four men who stood in intense discussion, their voices more hushed than the rustle of the leaves with the early fall breeze. Alistair hated to leave his job half done, but he felt no confidence that he would find the girl again, and his second target stood well within the range of his caliber .45, a sure bet.

Alistair edged around the corner toward the largest tree he could spy within a small nearby copse. For the next several minutes, he divided his time between scouring the crowd for any overly observant individuals and adjusting his stance to gain the best vantage point from which to take out Weathers. At some point, the rally would begin, and the tightly knit group around the target would break. When they did, Alistair would be sure to have a clear shot.

************

From their perch in the bookstore, Mario and Barbara could see very little. The stage stood half a mile away, it seemed, and though they could see the gathering of the crowd from the bookstore's second floor, they could make out nothing of detail.

"I hate this," Barbara complained on one of her innumerable marches around the room.

Mario shook his head. "I can't say I blame our fathers for keeping us away. It's only a matter of time until someone figures out Anna's 'source,' and I would just as soon you lie low until the whole ordeal blows over."

"I lie low -" Barbara huffed. "You're the one who wrote the letter. If anyone is in danger, it's you! And you know better than to think that you can keep me trapped in some cage until Angus Moran gets tired of looking."

Though he had watched her performance with a mix of amusement and indignation, he couldn't ignore her declaration without intervention. He stood and intercepted her track, grabbing her shoulders and pausing until she met his eyes. Even after all she had done to him, he barely restrained the smirk that grew in him at her defiant look. He didn't doubt that she would throw off any shackles he attempted to place on her, and he respected her determination more than she could know, but he wouldn't stand idly by while she ran into danger no matter what she decided. He would at least try to reason with her.

The reasoning would have to wait, however. Even he couldn't reprimand her a moment later when she rushed out the door. "What is she thinking?" Barbara exclaimed with an angry hiss.

Following the direction Barbara's gaze had taken, Mario glanced out the window to the sight of Marissa, standing completely exposed in the middle of the street and talking to, of all people, Sam Lincoln. That girl must have a death wish, he silently answered Barbara's question before rushing out after her.

Unfortunately, by the time he had followed Barbara into the street, he could find no sign of Marissa.

"Sam Lincoln!" Mario heard Barbara's irate tone shooting away from the plaza, and he rushed toward her voice, concerned that she would follow Carson McReynolds's right hand man directly into danger. "Sam," she persisted, and Sam turned back to where Mario approached Barbara. "Where did she go? What did you do to her?"

Sam Lincoln looked like a skittish rodent, ever vigilant against impending feline attack. Even more annoying, he seemed put off by Barbara's question. "Don't blame me if she acts like a fool," he spat. "I did everything I could to warn her away, but instead of leaving town, she insisted on stupidity."

For a moment, he cowered as the much smaller Barbara lunged at him, fists flying. "What did you do to her?" Barbara screeched. "I swear, if you hurt her -"

Sam raised his arms in defense just as Mario snatched Barbara from mid-lunge and pulled her, struggling, into his own arms.

"All I did was warn her to stay away from the plaza!" Sam insisted. "Is it a crime that I didn't want two people dead when it wouldn't accomplish anything?"

Barbara stopped struggling, and she and Mario exchanged a look. "Two people?" Mario voiced the question.

"The Morans aren't going to let a straight-lace like Weathers take office. He has made no secret of the fact that he won't play ball with the Rats."

"But they can't seriously expect McReynolds will hold the office for long?" Barbara gasped incredulously.

"Who needs McReynolds? Carson and Moran both talk as if Regis might get away with holding office, but what does it matter to Moran which politician gets the office as long as the politician is friendly to the Rats?"

"And where did Marissa go?" Mario returned to the most pressing topic, and both Sam and Barbara seemed to shake themselves to awareness.

"How am I supposed to know?" Sam whined. "She ran that way," he gestured toward the north side of the park, "but who knows where she went after that. She was supposed to go to the train station, but that's obviously not the right direction."

"Barbara," Mario grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her with him. "We've got to find Marissa now. If she headed back toward the rally, then she's running into danger."

Sam turned immediately and slithered in the opposite direction. Mario wouldn't waste another instant on him, so after a moment of hesitation, Mario pulled Barbara back toward the plaza.

"Coward," Barbara threw behind her as she left Sam Lincoln to his own fate.

"Yes," Mario agreed, "but what else would you expect? I'm actually surprised he had the guts to come find Marissa and try to convince her to leave town. Maybe he actually liked her."

As they ran, Mario peered beyond every tree and tried to take in the possible paths that Marissa could have taken.

"It's not as if she's particularly sneaky," Barbara seemed to read his thoughts. "Most likely she just walked down the streets."

"And most likely, since Sam told her what he told us, Marissa headed straight toward Jerome."

Mario felt Barbara wrench free from his grip, and a moment later she lurched ahead of him.

"Look," she called out as she left him behind, "I'm going to go warn my father and Mr. Weathers. You head around the edge of the park where Sam said Marissa went, and when you find her, get her out of sight."

Mario didn't like the idea of leaving Barbara alone or letting her walk straight toward a targeted man, but he had to remember that no one suspected Barbara yet. Not only that, but someone needed to warn Jerome Weathers, and someone else needed to find Marissa. Barbara and Mario couldn't do both jobs if they stayed together. After consideration, Mario decided that he would rather send Barbara into the company of four men he trusted than to send her on a hunt alone through hidden corners and crannies where unseen dangers might lurk.

"Fine," he agreed. "When I find her, I'll head straight to my father's office. I think it's probably the closest and the safest location we'll find."

"Agreed. And I'll encourage our fathers and Mr. Weathers to follow you there."

After one more step forward, Barbara paused, and Mario had to halt his own forward motion to avoid running into her. "Mario," she peered up into his face.

"Yes?" He had rarely seen her look quite so intense, and part of him worried for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I mean," she looked down at the grass at her feet. "I hope that Moran and McReynolds get some ugly press for this, and I hope they lose a lot of money, but I'm sorry that I risked your life without your permission. Yours, and Marissa's, and apparently Jerome Weather's as well. My reasons were right, but my actions were wrong."

"They were," Mario agreed, stepping into the space before her and cupping her cheek with his hand. "But we will make this right, and you can apologize to everyone else once we're all safe. No time for regrets right now." As if to punctuate his words, Mario bent down and placed a firm kiss on her lips. "No regrets now, Barbara."

For the first time since he'd known her, Mario thought he saw a tear glistening in Barbara Crenshaw's eye. He quickly wiped it away so that she wouldn't have to deny it, but they both smiled their understanding for each other.

"No regrets," she agreed, and broke into her full-on grin, always marked with such knowledge and a hint of defiance. "Now back to work."

Before he could respond, Barbara had spun toward the rally, and Mario only watched for a moment before he headed for the maze of buildings a few yards away.

***********

Tony absolutely despised the wasted time, but he had already traversed three quarters of the park's perimeter to no avail. Why he thought he would find her there, he didn't know, but he just could think of nowhere else to look. He had finally reached the northeast corner of the plaza and considered giving up his initial plan and going back to retrace his footsteps near Marcel's. Sure, he would find no one at the club, but maybe he could find some evidence that she had existed. His last point of contact seemed the most logical place to seek out evidence.

"Tony," came the voice from the plaza. "Tony, what are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be with Jerome?"

To his surprise, Tony glanced up into the face of his older brother. "I..." Tony stuttered. Seeing his brother stirred up a surprising amount of anger. If Mario and Barbara hadn't published that paper, nothing would have happened to Marissa.

"Tony," Mario interrupted the thoughts. "Tony, wake up, man! I'm looking for Marissa. Have you seen her?"

Tony shook himself. "No, but I've been looking for the past hour. I have no idea where to start." His desperation felt palpable, and Mario gazed intently at his brother with a new understanding. At some point in all of his heroic attempts to protect Marissa, Tony had grown at least fond of the girl, if not a bit more. "As far as I know, I'm on a wild goose chase. Moran could have gotten to her and killed her by now, since she left me so long ago."

"If it's any consolation," Mario offered, "she was alive ten minutes ago. Barbara and I saw her with Sam Lincoln."

If fury could mix with relief, then Tony wore equal parts of each. "She was alive," he gushed. "But with Sam Lincoln!" Tony turned to stare at his brother.

"Apparently, she was trying to leave town, and Sam told her to get out fast," Mario explained.

"Most sensible thing she's done in weeks," Tony nodded.

"Of course, she didn't leave, thanks to Sam. In his defense, though he doesn't deserve one, he had come to warn her off the rally. Unfortunately, his revelations had the opposite effect."

Tony glared at his brother. "Don't be cryptic. What happened?"

"Sam told Marissa that she wasn't the only target, that Moran had laid a plan to kill Jerome today -"

"I knew it!" Tony interrupted.

"But once she knew that, she headed straight back toward Jerome. He said she headed to the north side of the plaza, and I had just started to retrace her route when I saw you."

Something like hope painted Tony's face. "So, she was alive ten minutes ago." He glanced toward Jerome, "And she hasn't reached Jerome yet, so we might be able to catch her. But what do we do about Jerome?"

It was Mario's turn to look stricken. "Barbara went to warn him. I'm just hoping her efforts don't coincide with the assassination attempt."

They both glanced toward the stage in time to see Barbara approach a small group of men including her father, Professor Garner, Jerome, and another young man. Even from their distance, they could make out Barbara's animation.

"So, if they listen to her," Tony breathed, "Jerome will hopefully move out of danger's way within a moment.

At the conditional, Mario laughed. "Oh, they'll listen to her. They won't have a choice. She's ridiculously persistent when she's determined."

Tony had to smile at his brother's obvious ambivalence about his favorite's personality traits. Still, affection won out on Mario's features. Unfortunately, Tony understood all to well. The person who grew more important to Tony with every moment he spent with her seemed to have a knack for finding trouble.

"So, that leaves us with Marissa. Why don't you take this side of the buildings that line the street, and I'll skirt along the back?"

Mario nodded. "Good. You're faster than I am, you've probably done this kind of thing more than I have, and if I stay in front, I can check up on Barbara until she moves out of harm's way."

Without another word, Tony turned and made his way to the back of the building on the northeast corner of the park. Mario, with a nod, made his way to the front.

**********

For an instant, Marissa stood frozen with indecision. She couldn't believe she had made it the length of the park in so short a time, but she thought about what her mother had always said about her. "You were a strong baby," mother claimed, "but you had no killer instinct. You just couldn't protect yourself at another's expense. Your brother used to hit you, and you would stand there and look at him with an expression of confusion. You couldn't understand why people had to fight, so you just didn't."

Well, she had found a reason to fight, and apparently, it had imbued her with more strength than usual, because she had made record time around the park, at least for her. In reality, she now faced a merely intellectual decision: how best to solve the problem before her.

She could see everything clearly now.

The strange man stood only a few yards away from her, intent on his target, unaware of her presence. About twenty feet in front of him stood almost everyone dear to her in St. Louis. The professor, Mr. Crenshaw, Jerome, Barbara. Noticeably absent were Tony and Mario, though she could see Leonard and Doris on the nearby stage. The pair seemed nothing to the man behind the tree. Of course, Marissa recognized the man at once. She had dreamed about him more than once during the last week or two, and the dreams always confused her. In the dreams, he never seemed particularly threatening. On the contrary, he wore a look of sympathy, and Marissa couldn't help but pity him his dilemma. He had come to kill her. That first day she had seen him – the day she had run into Sam and then Tony – she could see it in his sympathetic and regretful eyes. In the dreams, too, he had apologized as he had reached for her throat or pulled out the gun. Strange, confusing dreams that left her more sad than afraid.

Now, she saw the man again, but he seemed strangely out of place from her dreams. It seemed that he had come for another this time. Her heart stopped – Jerome. Though she had come for the sole purpose of stopping the man, now that she saw him, the confused circumstances sapped her conviction. The dream versus reality. Had the man come to kill her, or had he come to kill Jerome?

From within her agitation cried her conscience, "Stop him! Don't let him shoot Jerome!" Whatever he intended, Marissa could accept only one outcome. She couldn't let Jerome die if she could stop it. What course should she take, though? Should she try to distract him? Hide and call to him? Throw something at him? If she did, maybe she would set off his trigger finger, surprise him into an action she did not desire. No, she thought she knew a better way.

If she moved just a few feet to her left, she could appear from behind a tree within the man's vision. If she could believe her dreams, the man had intended to kill her, too. Perhaps he had just lost her, and so redirected his efforts elsewhere. Or, maybe he had chosen to go after Jerome first as a bigger target, to make sure he took care of the most pressing matter.

Marissa had no more time to consider. When she glanced back at the group, Marshall Crenshaw had taken a step toward his daughter, and in so doing, had given the shooter a clear line to Jerome. If she hesitated, Jerome would die now.

"You know, you don't have to do this," Marissa offered in a conciliatory tone, stepping into the man's view. "I can tell you don't like to."

Startled, the man looked up into Marissa's face with confusion, and his hand wavered. Marissa could not deceive herself that her words had affected him; he wore a cold-blooded look of determination, and all the sympathy that she had sensed had withdrawn into some hidden spot inside his soul. No, his confusion stemmed from the unexpected appearance of his second target and an indecision of which track to take.

"Once you shoot him, you won't get me," Marissa pressed. "There will be so much confusion that I'll get away, but if I go with you now, you can come back and take Jerome out when my friends are safely away from him."

"And you'd just let me shoot him, then?" the man finally spoke with a strong Scottish brogue.

"What's he to me? He's just a politician; you read the articles. Some of his associates work with your boss, so Jerome Weathers can't be trusted. I just don't want you to hurt any of my friends in the process."

"I'm a very good shot," the man grinned as he pointed the gun back toward the group.

"I don't want to take that chance," Marissa interjected. "You're not good enough to get both of us at once, unless I go stand right next to him. So, if you take me away from here, my friends are safe, and you get both of your targets."

"Missy," the Scotsman stared at her with a mix of steel and admiration, "you're a brave one. Brave and stupid. Would your friends do this for you?"

Though Marissa shrugged again with nonchalance, her insides shook. "I don't know. I'd like to think so, but I rarely find that people are as loyal to me as I am to them. It's a fault of mine, I think. Still, I would rather I die than one of them. Who am I to matter so much?"

"I'd say," the man glared at her, "that you're the best one of the bunch. I regret that I have to kill you."

"I know you do," Marissa answered honestly as she saw the return of sympathy into the man's eyes. She eased toward the row of buildings on her left, maintaining eye contact. If she could get him to follow her, maybe she could duck into a hidden doorway and escape. She had to believe she could lull him into complacency, distract him and take away his opportunities. And still get away.

Alistair shook his head as he glanced back at Jerome Weathers for one last time. He hated to let the politician go, but Alistair had given up hoping that he would get both targets. To refuse her offer could only prove short-sighted. No doubt he could find another opportunity to get Weathers before the end of the drawn-out, long-winded rally, but the girl wouldn't stick around until he had killed one target just so she could be the next. Her offer was conditional.

"I'll wait until your friends are away, then," he agreed, and without a word, Marissa turned and headed in the direction of the buildings, Alistair following a few paces behind. He raised his gun just in case she tried to run for it after luring him away. So far, he had lost his targets twice in one day, and Alistair would not let that happen again. "I don't like to shoot a lady in the front because she gets more scared, so as soon as we reach a safe place, I'll just pull the trigger, and you'll never know it's coming. I promise; it's better that way."

Though her step faltered, Marissa did not slow down. With every inch away from her friends, a sense of relief mixed with a feeling of terror as the reality of what lay before her set in. She didn't remember starting to cry, but she became aware of the warm moisture flowing from her eyes and down her cheeks. Without moving her head, she peered around her, searching for deliverance, but when she eased her way closer to a respite, the voice rose from behind.

“Don’t get smart, missy,” the man warned. “Stay to the middle.”

The road narrowed, and the buildings began to throw shadows that covered the entire span of the pavement. A few passersby seemed to slow as the strange pair shuffled down the street, but when they took in the menacing face of Alistair, doors closed and windows shuttered. With every scratch of a stone underfoot or crack of a wayward twig, Marissa imagined the slick of the trigger, but for far too long it didn't come, to the point where she almost turned to find out why. All at once she realized: her ploy had become reality. She wasn’t going to get away. I’m such and idiot! she lamented. Panicked, the flow of her tears intensified, blinding her, and she found her strength fleeing. Though she tried to force herself to focus, her mind rebelled.

When the sound finally came, she could not mistake it: a harmless click followed by an explosion of sound that seemed to come from within her. The air around her squeezed more tightly against her, and she couldn't breathe as time slowed. She could feel the sideways motion as she hurtled to the ground in an unexpected direction. Slowly, Marissa decided that the man had switched location so she wouldn't know what hit her. A moment later, she felt a crack of pain against her head, and four faces flashed through her mind: her beautiful mother's smile, her dad's piercing gaze, her brother's mischievous grin, and…The last face nearly woke her from her fading stupor, though in the end it could not compete with the force of the blow to her head. She saw Tony, his anguished eyes peering into her face.

A moment later, she knew no more.