That made the sentence feel heavier.
Crawford stared at her.
For half a second, something uncertain moved through his expression again.
Then ego buried it.
“You threatening me?”
“No.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
Jessica remained still.
“I’m giving you an opportunity.”
He scoffed.
“To do what?”
“To make a better decision.”
Several Marines exchanged glances.
One of them, a staff sergeant with close-cropped gray at his temples, shifted his weight forward.
Crawford saw him.
That seemed to irritate him.
He tugged Jessica another step.
Her mother called from several rows away.
“Jessica?”
Jessica heard her immediately.
She did not turn.
Her mother’s voice sharpened.
“Jessica, what’s happening?”
Crawford glanced past her.
“Ma’am, stay where you are.”
Jessica’s mother, Patricia Dalton, ignored him.
She moved between folding chairs and families carrying small American flags.
Her expression changed when she saw his hand.
“Take your hand off my daughter.”
