The key wouldn’t go into the lock.

The brass ring around the keyhole was shiny and new, without the little scratches that covered the old hardware.

I rapped twice on the heavy wooden frame.

The door opened two inches and caught hard against the brass security chain on the inside.

Zane stood in the narrow gap, his face lit flat by the hall light.

“You ought to be at your mother’s, Sarah,” Zane said.

His heavy, commanding voice filled the narrow opening.