“Luke.”
“Candace, you can’t go because it’s been postponed.”
“Why?” I ask.
Luke huffs. “Do you want me to tell you, or should I turn on the television?”
I sigh. “Put it on.”
“Jesus,” Cassidy mutters.
The first image that greets us is a young teenager with a bloody face; behind her, a police officer in riot gear is on the ground.
“How did this happen?” I ask Luke.
“I don’t know all the details,” he replies. Todd and Ryan are working on it. “Initial reports suggest it started with a pushing match between one of the ABL members and a counter-protestor. It spilled over to some rallygoers who were lining up.”
“Why on earth would that protest that close to the event line?” I demand.
“I don’t know,” Luke says. “I promise I will find out.”
Ryan walks in, sporting a grimace.
“Ryan?” I ask.
“Madam President.” Ryan takes a deep breath.
“Just tell me,” I say.
“A twelve-year-old girl is on her way to the hospital,” Ryan tells me.
I wait.
“Agent Standish believes she was shit with a projectile. There were no firearms at play. We won’t know anything until she’s treated.”
“How serious?” I ask.
“It went into her shoulder. It’s not life-threatening,” Ryan replies.
“But?”
“There are six more people who require medical intervention. Two protestors, a counter-protester, and three rallygoers.”
I need to take a few deep breaths before I respond. “Ryan,” I begin calmly. “I want to knoweverythingthere is to know aboutthe security plans for that event.Everything. I want you to call Alex. Now.”
“Madam President?”
“Call Alex.”
“Shouldn’t I call Director Brennan?”
“Alex, Ryan. I’ll deal with the director.”
“Ma’am.”
I look at Luke. “Get me the director on the phone.”
“Madam President.”