It slid in two inches and stopped, refusing to turn.

He pulled it out and picked a flat iron key with three notches along the side.

The key turned halfway before jamming tight against the brass tumbler.

Nate pulled back on the handle, his jaw set as he picked the third key, a narrow copper skeleton key.

It was too wide for the keyhole.

“Four left,” I said, standing on the step behind him.

Nate took the fourth key, a long iron key with two rounded notches cut into the bit.