could pull some data on Olivia that would explain why a brownie-baking, soap-opera-watching senior would be running what appeared to be an Antifa command center in her basement.
“Ms. Reilly . . . may I spirit you away for lunch?”
At the touch on her arm, Eve excused herself from the conversation she was having with one of the Young Republicans during the meet and greet and swiveled toward the president of the group. “Of course.”
In truth, though, eating before a major speech was never her preference—less so with news vans parked nearby. The flutter of nerves in her stomach was a definite appetite killer.
Strange how she was perfectly comfortable spouting off to tens of thousands of people from a studio, but in front of a couple hundred warm bodies she always had to fight a slight but unnerving case of stage fright.
The man motioned her toward the tent that had been erected to protect the sound equipment for the speeches in case of inclement weather, and she arched an eyebrow. The sun was shining, and the food was set up near the picnic pavilions, where she assumed they’d all be eating lunch.
He took her arm, leaning closer as they walked. “I’ve just been alerted that law enforcement is ratcheting up security. The officer in charge asked us to gather in the tent for a briefing.”
Her pulse faltered. This was exactly what Brent had feared would happen.
As they approached the tent, two uniformed officers lowered the sides in one corner near a table, then circled around to the outside and assumed sentry duty. Two other officers took up positions inside but facing away from the table.
All four directions were being covered.
Whatever was going on must be big.
Eve took a deep breath as she sank into a chair at the table, where two other members of the organization’s board were already seated.
Another police officer—this one higher ranking, if she was reading his uniform insignia correctly—joined them.
“Lieutenant Anderson.” He extended his hand to each of them and claimed a chair. “I want to bring you up to speed on the situation here.”
Eve listened as the man described the growing Antifa presence in a nearby parking lot—and mentioned new intel that suggested the protestors could have more planned than mere marching.
“What kind of intel?” The president of the group narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. We’re waiting for a warrant to give us the green light to search a suspicious area. It was a chance discovery that raises the threat level here significantly.”
“Are you suggesting we shut the event down?”
“That’s your call—but I would advise that, at a minimum, you delay your afternoon program while we bring in additional officers and continue to assess the intel coming in. We’ll also put tighter security on your keynote speaker in the interim.”
Now it was Eve’s turn to furrow her brow. Was the Antifa presence here related to her—and the threats she’d been receiving?
“We don’t want to put anyone in danger—our speakers, the audience, or any of the innocent people in the park.” The president glanced at his fellow board members, who nodded their agreement. “If we have to shut this down, we will.”
“But then the Antifa people win.” Eve’s blood began to boil, as it always did when she was confronted with efforts to undermine the free speech that was a foundation of American society. “I can live with shouting and picketing, if that’s all we’re talking about. Or are you thinking this could get violent?”
“Unknown.” The lieutenant folded his hands on the table. “Most of the Antifa folks claim they prefer peaceful protests—but we’ve all seen how these kinds of situations can degenerate. As I said, delaying the program would be wise at this point, until we know more.”
“We can do that,” the president confirmed.
“I’ll have the officers circulate in the crowd and make that announcement quietly. Let’s try to keep Antifa off balance as long as we can. We should have new information soon that will give us further direction.”
“That’s fine with us.” Again, the president checked with the other board members, who murmured their assent.
The lieutenant rose. “Ms. Reilly, I was instructed to have you call Detective Lange. I understand you have his number.”
“Yes.” She stood too.
“May I ask that you remain here for the time being? I’m sure these folks would be happy to give you privacy.”
The president and his cohorts took the cue and stood at once. “We’ll mingle too and help spread the word among our members. And