She dropped the shorter key. It fell with a rattle, and she had to grope for it on the dusty floor.
Then she inserted it.
She tried to turn it, but it wouldn't turn or even move, and May felt a brief flare of panic that this wasn't the safe, that it was the wrong one after all, that her sleepless nights and hours of worrying since she learned about this safe's existence had all been for nothing.
And then she remembered that both keys needed to be in place before the safe could be opened.
Hurriedly, she inserted the longer key into the almost invisible keyhole.
It was even rustier. She jiggled and wiggled it, teasing it in, until finally it was in place.
Now, at last, it was time. Her heart was beating hard. Her mouth felt dry. What would she find in here?
She held her breath as she turned the first key.
CHAPTER TWO
May's hands felt slippery with tension as she twisted the long, metal key.
She was aware of her pulse thundering in her ears. She was aware of the dust, the gloom, the cold, and the steps behind her that led back up to the surface and the light. She was aware of the quiet hum of the ventilation system.
But most of all, she was filled with the expectation that she was about to see inside a safe that Lauren's abductor had known about and must have used.
The long key felt rusty and sticky, as if protesting the fact that she was here to open it up and learn about its hidden secrets.
In fact, May was realizing it wasn’t going to give them up without a struggle.
But she'd brought oil with her! There was oil in her purse. She'd almost forgotten about it, having grabbed it out of the kitchen cupboard at the last moment just in case she came across this exact problem.
May took the key out carefully. She fumbled in her purse, looking for the small can of oil. She sprayed the key and then she sprayed into the lock aperture, hoping that by doing this, this ancient safe would finally be able to be opened.
Then she put the key in again.
It wouldn't move. May tugged, turning it harder, but it seemed immovable. Trying to turn it was awkward. Her fingers kept slipping, and she was aware of sweat starting to spring out on the back of her neck.
"Damn!" she whispered, frustrated.
She tried again, feeling panic rise in her again as she remembered the pressure of time. The key would not move. It was not going to move. What could she do? She had to getto work! She couldn't kneel here all day on this dusty floor, struggling with a key that seemed to be firmly jammed in the lock.
Perhaps she wasn't trying hard enough, May decided. She needed to give this everything she had. She needed to force open this rusty old mechanism, because she had to find out what the contents were. She had to!
Her fingers felt slippery, her knuckles were aching, and her wrist was sore from struggling with the key, but she couldn't give up.
What if this was the turning point in the case that would finally provide answers? What if this was the day she'd been waiting for since that day ten years ago when her sister had disappeared?
With a sense of rising panic, May jammed the key deeper, jiggling it from side to side, turning it furiously.
She started to tug it hard, pulling at the key, yanking at it, then pushing it, trying to figure out a way to force it to turn. The key turned slightly and then she felt it stop again. It was as if something was blocking it.
Turning the key harder, she pulled, her fingers burning, feeling the lock mechanism move, reluctantly, millimeter by millimeter.
And then, suddenly, without warning, the key snapped.
May gasped. She stared down in horror at the broken shaft that was now all she had in her hands. There was a rusted point toward the center of the key where the metal had obviously weakened.
This was it. She'd broken it. Her own impatience had been her downfall and now she would not be able to find out what lay inside.
What if she'd broken it beyond repair, May wondered, now feeling ready to burst into tears at the thought. How on earthcould you extract a broken key shaft from this tiny and rusted keyhole?