The Stratford Theatre’s parking lot was packed with an angry mass shouting and waving signs. The police were fighting to keep the theatre surrounded by yellow caution tape, and the construction workers were huddled together in shock. The approaching storm clouds seemed to be nothing more than distant puffs of smoke to the locals. Something whizzed by Lexie’s head as she scanned the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder to see Bryony launching a tennis ball. It arced through the air and smashed into a policeman’s face. A younger woman with a long braid held several bags of balls. Bryony reached down and prepared to throw another. Lexie jumped out of the way, smacking into a regal looking man. “Sorry, I did—” Lexie stopped immediately. “Um…hello, Dr. Lindegaard. How…are you?” “Hello, Ms. Stanley,” Dr. Lindegaard answered.
