Marine Returns From Okinawa to Find Her Bungalow Already Sold
“You cannot go in there right now,” he said, stepping directly in front of the door lock. “The lock was sticking, so Dad had the whole mechanism replaced.”
He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning my uniform.
“I have my own key,” I said. I pushed past him and slid the brass key into the shiny new deadbolt.
I turned the brass key in my fingers, but the cylinder remained stubbornly still.
I pulled the key back a millimeter and tried again. The brass teeth caught nothing but resistance.
Chad let out a short, dry laugh and flicked his silver lighter open. “Told you. Deadbolt is frozen solid. Dad had to swap the whole setup last week because the pins went bad.”
“The deadbolt was brand new when I left for Okinawa,” I said, dropping my hand from the cold metal.
“Salt air ruins everything, sis. You know how the Gulf is.” Chad flipped the lighter shut with a metallic snap, then slipped it into his front pocket.