Page 2 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)

ONE

London, England

Sean Adams leaped from the cab of his digger and pushed his way through the crowd of men gathered around a large opening.

For a moment, he thought it was a sinkhole, here in the middle of London, but what he was looking at was some kind of subterranean chamber that had been uncovered as a result of his efforts.

The ceiling of the chamber—nothing more than a thin layer of rotted wooden beams—had caved in, revealing a narrow space beneath, the walls of which were solid stone.

The men peered into the hole, curious to see what it held.

“Step aside, step aside,” Foreman Milne bellowed.

He stood at the edge of the opening and shone a torch into the dark recess of the chamber.

“What have we here?” he asked no one in particular as he removed his hard hat and scratched his egg-shaped head.

Foreman Milne was a good-natured man most of the time, not averse to joining his crew for a pint and singing loudly and off-key once he’d had a few, but at this moment he was vibrating with irritation.

He had no time for delays; he was on a schedule, and the management was breathing down his neck.

“What is it, boss?” someone called out. “A buried treasure?” The men chuckled.

They found all kinds of rubbish at every new site: bits of furniture, rusted prams, sometimes even old cellars that had been used as air raid shelters during the last war, complete with tin cups, wooden benches, and old newspapers.

But this looked different. The chamber was completely empty, except for one large rectangular object.

“Bring me a ladder, lads. A long one,” the foreman called. “Adams, you’re with me since we have you to thank for this ‘fortuitous’ find.”

Sean reluctantly followed his boss into the dank hole.

The roof was mostly gone, but the walls were still intact, built of rough-hewn stone nearly a foot thick.

They were cold to the touch, even on a pleasant day like today.

The opening looked like it might have been a large well in its day, but there was no indication that it ever contained any water.

The walls were not covered with mildew, and the packed earth at the bottom was dry as bone.

“Toss me down a pair of cutters,” the foreman called out to the men gathered at the top. “This thing appears to have a lock on it.”

The two men stood awkwardly next to what appeared to be an oversize sea chest. It took up most of the space, leaving barely any room for Milne and Adams to stand.

The chest looked sturdy and was secured with a chain and an old-fashioned padlock, which was rusted with age and neglect.

Foreman Milne gently kicked the chest with his foot, and the two men heard something rattle within.

He then ran a finger along the lid. It came away dusty, but the wood beneath appeared to be in good condition.

The chest was elaborately carved and painted, the colors still vibrant despite the layers of grime.

Sean was bursting with curiosity and wished Milne would just get on with it.

His brother, Joe, worked on a site where they’d found a leather pouch full of antique coins.

The story had been in all the major newspapers and even on the telly.

Joe had been interviewed, and the segment had appeared on the news.

The coins were now part of an exhibition at the British Museum, and Joe still told the story of his historic find every time he had a captive audience.

“Shall I do it, boss?” Sean asked the foreman, his voice quivering with excitement.

The older man shrugged and moved aside as much as the small space would allow, his face creased with displeasure.

He handed Sean the cutters and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his posture indicative of the impatience that he was trying to keep in check.

Foreman Milne wasn’t the type of man who suffered from acute curiosity or an overactive imagination.

He assumed they’d found some rubbish that would need to be cleared away, resulting in wasting several hours of their time.

To him, it made no difference who opened the chest.

Sean cut the rusty chain and kicked away the lock when it clattered to the stone floor. He took a shaky breath before lifting the lid and peering inside.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he breathed out as he quickly crossed himself. Sean stepped back, nearly colliding with Foreman Milne, who’d taken a step forward to shine a light into the chest. It was full of bones, the skulls grinning eerily out of the gloom.

The men above were craning their necks for a better look, blocking nearly all the light in the process. Someone already had his mobile out and was snapping pictures of the chest, the flash blinding in the dark space.

“No photos,” Milne bellowed as he stood in front of the open chest. “Get away with you. Sean, call the police. Now!”