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“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.”