Page 62 of Echoes of a Southern Song

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jack

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IT STARTS WITH A SMILE.

That’s all I can offer her as she walks toward the stand. Sam is a dick. I know his type. I’ve seen guys like him operate all my life. They use people. They prey on good girls. If I would have been here a year ago, I would have run that piece of shit out of town. I watch him watch her and it makes my head pound with barely contained rage. That asshole doesn’t get to look at her. He has no right to do this to her. I want to pummel him.

My eyes move back to her. I know she’d rather be anywhere else. She gives me a quick glance. Her eyes are glassy and wide. She’s doing her best not to look at him. And he’s staring at her. It’s intimidation. I look at Aggie.

“She’ll be fine,” she whispers. “Ignore him.”

Easier said than done.

Jinnie raises her right hand and swears to tell the truth. Her voice is so small I barely hear it. She sits, and I don’t know if the bench I’m sitting on feels hard because it is or because my whole damn body is tight with nerves.

Her lawyer stands, calm and professional. His voice is steady, his tone even. But my eyes don’t leave Jinnie. She’s gripping the sides of the chair like she’s bracing for impact.

I want to walk up there, take her hand, and tell her it’s okay. That she doesn’t have to do this alone. But I’m stuck here, in the damn gallery, with nothing to do but watch. And seethe.

“Jinnie, can you tell the court what your relationship with Mr. Crawford was like at the beginning?”

She swallows hard. “It was confusing. At first, I thought he liked me. Like, really liked me. He was nice, sweet... said the right things. He was a little older than me, but I thought that was cool.”

Her attorney nods. I realize I’m about to get a play-by-play of their relationship from start to finish. I have to listen to her describe how he love-bombed her.

And I can’t react.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Mr. Langley says. “How did you meet Mr. Crawford?”

Jinnie takes a shaky breath. “He came into the bakery. He told me he had seen a post on social media that I had put up. He was very... attentive. He came back the next day and the day after. I felt... special. He seemed so interested in me. This older, attractive stranger asked all these questions about my life, my dreams. I’d never had someone pay that much attention to me before. He was nothing like the guys I went to school with. I was still in high school and felt like the cool girl dating the college guy.”

Her lawyer gives her a reassuring nod. “And how did the relationship progress?”

“It moved fast,” she admits, her eyes flicking to the floor for a moment before she forces herself to look back up. “He wanted to see me all the time. Texts, calls, showing up at my work unannounced. At first, I thought it was sweet, like he really cared. I asked why he wasn’t in classes and he told me he was taking the semester off.”

Sam’s lawyer shifts in her seat, her expression unreadable. Sam himself sits perfectly still, his face a mask of indifference, but I can see the tension in his jaw. He’s not as calm as he wants everyone to think.

“I didn’t know then that he wasn’t enrolled in school. He lied about that and a lot of other things. I found out way too late that he was living with roommates in a house they rented and he didn’t have a job. But at the time, I was so caught up in the attention... the idea that someone like him could want someone like me.”

Her lawyer gives her a sympathetic look. “And how did the relationship change over time?”

She exhales slowly. “It got intense. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. If I didn’t answer his texts right away, he’d freak out. He’d accuse me of losing interest, of seeing someone else. I started feeling like I had to check in with him all the time just to keep him from getting mad.”

I clench my fists under the table, my stomach twisting into knots. I want to punch Sam in the face. Repeatedly.

“I graduated high school and my parents bought me a tiny home to put on their property. Sam was always coming over. It felt like he was more interested in my life than me. He was always out walking the property... assessing. One time I saw him looking at property on his laptop. He said he was looking at places for us to buy. He said he wanted to see if the property was a good deal.”

“Can you clarify what you mean by that?” her lawyer prompts.

Jinnie nods slowly. “He asked a lot of questions about my parents. Their business. Their property. It started as casual stuff—like, ‘Oh, how big is the house?’ or ‘Do you think your family will pass it down to you someday?’ I didn’t think much of it at first.”

I clench my fists. It’s subtle, the way he worked her. I’ve seen guys like Sam before. Not just smooth talkers—manipulators. Calculators. They test the water before diving in.

“But then it got more persistent,” she continues. “He’d bring it up all the time. He’d say things like, ‘It must be nice knowing someday that’ll all be yours,’ or ‘Have your parents ever thought about putting it in your name early?’ I told him they needed it. That they worked hard for it. But he’d just brush it off.”

The lawyer nods. “And how did that make you feel?”