“No, sir.”
“Then shut your mouth.”
The staff sergeant’s jaw tightened.
He said nothing else.
Jessica watched Crawford’s decision-making deteriorate in real time.
Alcohol might explain some of it.
Pride explained the rest.
“Captain,” Jessica said, “this is your last chance to walk away cleanly.”
Crawford laughed.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep needing to hear it.”
He pulled her closer again.
The pain sharpened.
Jessica’s mother gasped.
Several Marines moved at once.
Jessica raised her free hand slightly.
Not toward Crawford.
Toward them.
Stop.
The gesture was instinctive.
Clear.
Commanding.
And everyone nearest her obeyed before thinking.
Crawford noticed.
So did the staff sergeant.
A strange silence followed.
Jessica lowered her hand.
Crawford’s eyes narrowed.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“That little gesture.”
Jessica said nothing.
He studied her now with something new.
Suspicion.
Not the original kind.
Something deeper.
The way she stood.
The lack of fear.
