Marine Returns From Okinawa to Find Her Bungalow Already Sold
I looked at him for a long second, hoping to see some sign of regret in his face. There was only the same stubborn anger that had kept us apart for years.
I turned and walked down the creaking wooden stairs.
I waited until dusk before driving back to Maggie Street. I parked near the end of the block, under the shadow of a sprawling live oak tree.
Chad’s sedan was parked near my driveway. He was standing under the yellow glow of the streetlamp, a silver lighter flipping between his fingers.
The metallic click of the lighter was the only sound on the quiet street.
“You still lingering around here?” he drawled as I approached.
“The police are looking into Benson,” I said.
He laughed, a slow, mocking sound that did not reach his eyes.
“Benson has three lawyers on retainer, sis,” Chad said. “He knows how to handle a little heat.”
“And what about you?” I asked. “When the court voids the sale, Emily gets her money back. Where is your share of the sixty-four thousand?”
