His hand was trembling so much he could barely grip the metal.

“You do it, Harper,” he said, handing me the flashlight.

I took his place in front of the safe.

I placed my fingers on the cold dial.

I turned it to the right, stopping at twenty-four.

I turned it to the left, passing twenty-four once, and stopping at twelve.

Finally, I turned it back to the right, stopping at thirty-six.

I grabbed the heavy iron handle.

I pulled.

The metal groaned, but it didn’t budge.

“Did I do it wrong?” I whispered, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

“Try again,” Mr. Alvarez urged. “The gears are old.”

I reset the dial and repeated the sequence, pressing my ear against the cold iron door.

I listened closely.

Inside, I heard a faint, distinct click.

I gripped the handle again and threw my weight backward.

With a heavy screech, the iron door swung open.

The beam of the flashlight cut through the darkness inside the safe.

On the bottom shelf sat a thick, leather-bound book and a stack of yellowed documents.