Tony had spent the last several hours pondering what type of woman would involve herself in publishing a paper such as the one that had rocked the little community in St. Louis. Any woman could have done it, but the attendees at the university seemed the most likely as suspects.

For one, the women who tended toward higher education grew from a more activist bent. No single institute had produced so many Suffragettes as had the university. Too, the writing in the paper had sounded highly erudite, a definite indication of education. The perspective of the writing came from a person of means looking in from the outside at poverty and injustice, not from someone speaking from experience. In addition to those factors, perhaps the most compelling came from the fact that the university owned several printing machines capable of printing the newspaper. Except for the conventional newspaper and a printing press that published books on the south side of town – far from the circulation of the paper – no one else owned printers, at least to Tony's knowledge. At the college, too, the printers were less well guarded than at the newspaper or the printing press.

With those thoughts in mind, Tony wandered toward the park without a direct goal. He had no clear idea of the person whom he sought, but he figured that students congregated regularly in the beauty of the park.

The moon had risen high overhead by the time Tony reached the grassy clearing, and he spied various and plentiful clusters of young people dotting the landscape. Some sat with food and blankets, several had books and paper, and a few rang with occasional spurts of raucous laughter.

After meandering down several trails, nodding to a few acquaintances, and skirting by a few groups for the purpose of eavesdropping, Tony felt himself arrested by a firm but very soft hand which wrapped itself around his upper arm. He turned and encountered a familiar face.

"It's you," trilled a high, lilting voice, and Tony stared into the unusually green eyes of the girl he had met with Sam Lincoln.

Irritated, Tony forced himself to answer civilly. "Yes, it is." He let a smile curve just the corners of his lips.

"I haven't seen you around here much, Tony. What secret mission brings you into the lions' den?"

Now, intrigued, Tony turned to fully face her. "It's a public park. How exactly is it a lions' den?"

"Well," she trailed a finger down his arm and back up again. "Sam said that you didn't particularly like the McReynolds."

"I'm not sure what the McReynolds have to do with the park."

"Do you see that group of students?" She pointed toward a small crowd of about thirty young people standing or sitting in a cluster near a pond.

"Yes."

"They are a planning committee, as are they," she gestured to a different group and then proceeded to point out several other groups. "And they, and they, and they. We have a meeting tonight, for the election next week. We are planning a big rally for the night before."

"Another one?" Tony asked, trying to keep the acidity from his voice.

He obviously failed because the red-head threw her head back in laughter, a seemingly practiced move intended to draw attention to her large painted lips and the pale white skin of her neck. "Tony Garner, you are so transparent. Even if Sam hadn't told me what you think of the McReynoldses, your expression now would have explained everything. Yes," she ducked her head then and twisted her lips in a smirk. The angle magnified the size of her eyes and the length of her lashes. Despite his revulsion, Tony found himself staring somewhat dumbly at her obvious beauty.

"Yes?" he queried, uncertain what she had answered.

This seemed to please her immensely, and she took a step closer to him as she formed the words precisely with her lips. "Yes, another McReynolds rally."

When he heard the name, he snapped out of his stupor, and his purpose in the park came flooding back to his consciousness. In addition, hearing the name McReynolds in conjunction with the thought of the paper gave Tony a new idea.

"So, everyone here is fairly politically minded, I guess?" he begged nonchalantly.

"Well," she qualified. "Probably about half of them. The other half are either bored or starving. McReynolds." A giggle erupted from her mouth. "The McReynolds parties always provide excellent food, since many of his staunchest supporters are wealthy. We also have the best forms of entertainment, though those parties don't usually occur in the open." The suggestive tone of her voice made Tony stare down into her face. By her look, he couldn't tell if she referred to underground parties at nearby speakeasies or to some more salacious form of gathering. He shook his head to clear the image from his brain.

"I would imagine." The acid had returned to his tone, and the red-head huffed with obvious distaste at his prudishness.

"Anyway, some of us are true believers in the campaign," she almost seemed to taunt him with her sentiments. "We recognize power when we see it."

"'Might makes right,'" Tony jabbed.

"'Before all else, be armed,'" she parried.

Tony had to admire her intelligence, but he utterly despised her sentiment. Finally, he turned the discussion toward his desired topic."

"So," he prodded, "Carson must have been pretty upset by some of the names listed in that little magazine that's been traveling around the neighborhood."

The red-head frowned up at Tony, irritated at the presumptuousness of his use of Carson McReynolds's first name. "Mr. McReynolds," she emphasized the name, "was originally quite distraught, but I happen to personally know that he is quite content now with the situation."

"Meaning that the paper didn't cause too much damage to his reputation?" Tony fished.

"Meaning," she smiled broadly, licking her bottom lip as if tasting a morsel of delicious food, "that Mr. McReynolds doesn't expect to see any more of the papers printed."

"What, it was a two-time printing?" Tony asked dumbly.

The girl seemed to consider, peering up at Tony with a hint of suspicion, as if she weren't sure how much to reveal. Seeing her reluctance to disclose the information, Tony purposely stepped closer to her, forcing her to look almost straight up to see his face. Her breath caught, and when her lips parted, Tony almost smiled. Though she seemed incredibly worldly, she still held the same weakness as most other woman. He almost felt guilty for using her femininity against her, at least, until she finally gave in and answered his question.

"No," she whispered, raising her lips to his ear, "I gave Sam and Mr. McReynolds the name of the writer, and Mr. McReynolds gave the name to the Moran brothers."

Though he worked hard to hide it, his heart clutched at the revelation. Tony had felt voluminous amounts of anger at the person who had so callously published that list, but he had also felt certain that the perpetrator caused problems from naïve idealism, not vindictive politics. To know that the person, especially a young student, had fallen victim to Angus Moran made Tony's blood run cold.

Rather than recoil, Tony eased even closer to the red-head. "How lucky for Mr. McReynolds."

The red-head pressed her palm against Tony's chest and rubbed it in a slow circle. "Not so lucky for the writer."

"Do I know this unlucky writer?" Tony placed his hand on her hip and pulled her even closer.

She giggled again, "I think not." She waved her free hand in a dismissive gesture. "Some poor, hapless girl who I overheard in an unfortunate phone call."

"So, you supplied the name. How clever of you."

"I did. I'm a very clever girl." She raised on her toes, running her lips along the length of Tony's chin.

"Very clever."

"Of course, not so good for you," she teased with a coy tone.

"And why is that?"

"Well," she offered tauntingly, "Sam Lincoln had wasted entirely too much time on this girl, and now, she's gone. So, now you have competition for my attention." When he looked down into her eyes, she raised higher on her toes and pressed her lips against his.

"Sam Lincoln?" he spoke in a husky voice, drawing her in with his tone. "Who was this girl?"

"A nothing. A girl, barely old enough to live alone. As a matter of fact, she didn't." The girl leaned back an inch smiling triumphantly, as if giddy on the thought of her success. "I think you saw her once. That night in the park? The first time I saw you."

"I met you at the rally," Tony corrected.

"Yes, but I saw you before that," she gushed, and Tony almost stepped back in irritation. "That night in the park when you stopped Sam to ask him about the McReynolds rally."

With the girl so close, Tony had to close his eyes to think, drawing up a memory of the meeting. He had stopped Sam for a reason; a reason besides just irritating the shyster political hack. And then he remembered.

Marissa.

Their interchange in the park the other night.

That night he had watched her place a sweet kiss on his father's wrinkled cheek.

Her upturned face when her lips, unstained by green paint, had beckoned him to kiss her.

The visions flashed before his eyes in a moment.

Her curious eyes when he startled her in his father's office.

Watching her from across the square as she spoke with Clarice.

And that night he had intercepted Sam so that Marissa could enter her home unassailed.

As the thoughts reeled in reverse order through his mind, the red-head stretched her hand toward Tony's face to draw him closer. He raised his hand swiftly, grasping her wrist perhaps harder than he had intended, but he relaxed it infinitesimally at her expression of shock.

"I remember that night. The girl's name is Marissa? Marissa Erinson?" he clarified. He knew whom he had seen on that night, but he asked the question as much out of disbelief as for clarification.

"Marissa Erinson!" the red-head snapped, wrenching her arm from Tony's grip. "Serves her right!" Tony could see in her eyes how offended she felt that he knew the girl's name, and he almost feared the violence in her gaze. "She is a stupid girl who got in over her head. And I'm glad I told the McReynoldses about her."

"Why?" Tony seethed, suddenly in a hurry to leave. "Because Sam Lincoln found her fascinating?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He just turned his back on her and headed across the square toward his father's office.

"I'm sure she won't fascinate him when the Moran brothers are through with her!" the girl screeched at Tony's back.

The words just pushed him faster across the park. If he didn't find Marissa, she might not live to fascinate another man again.