Burnt Echo

BURNT ECHO A DCI EVAN WARLOW THRILLER RHYS DYLAN CONTENTS Copyright Exclusive Offer Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Acknowledgments FREE BOOK FOR YOU Author’s note COPYRIGHT Copyright © 2023 by Rhys Dylan. All rights reserved. The right of Rhys Dylan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a purely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. ISBN 978-1-915185-12-9 eBook ISBN 978-1-915185-13-6 Published by Wyrmwood Books. An imprint of Wyrmwood Media. EXCLUSIVE OFFER Please look out for the link near the end of the book for your chance to sign up to the no-spam guaranteed VIP Reader’s Club and receive a FREE DCI Warlow novella as well as news of upcoming releases. Or you can go direct to my website: https://rhysdylan.com and sign up now. Remember, you can unsubscribe at any time and I promise won’t send you any spam. Ever. ALSO BY RHYS DYLAN THE ENGINE HOUSE - DCI WARLOW BOOK 1 CAUTION DEATH AT WORK —DCI WARLOW BOOK 2 ICE COLD MALICE - DCI WARLOW BOOK 3 SUFFER THE DEAD - DCI WARLOW BOOK 4 GRAVELY CONCERNED - DCI WARLOW BOOK 5 A MARK OF IMPERFECTION -DCI WARLOW BOOK 6 CHAPTER ONE ‘We couldn’t have picked a better day.’ Dennis Phillips inhaled a lungful of air and stared out across the empty grassy undulations leading up to Bryn Bras above the Rheidol Valley. Gareth Walls looked up from adjusting his harness to follow Dennis’s gaze. It wasn’t the first time the older man had mentioned it and, Gareth suspected, it would not be the last. On the one hand, he was absolutely right. They could not have picked a better day for it if the weather, temperature, and situation were the only criteria. But the prospect of clambering down a half-collapsed mineshaft, to find the root cause of the rotten smell reported to the Visitor Centre at Nant Yr Arian by a bevy of walkers over the last couple of days, raised another question altogether. No such thing as a “good day” for that, Gareth reasoned. And yes, he realised that this provided a training opportunity, and if he wanted to be a part of the call-out team for Mid and South Wales Cave Rescue, he needed stuff like this under his belt. When Dennis had called to say he and Arfon were going to Ystumtuen and across to Yr Het Fawr on Wednesday evening, Gareth had needed a translation for the spot on the landscape: The Big Hat. An abandoned mineworks to the northwest of the village. The Visitor Centre at Nant Yr Arian, in tandem with the silver and lead Mining Museum close by, had done much to encourage people back to the area after Covid had done its worst. The establishment of the Silver-Miner’s hiking trail to Devil’s Bridge and beyond was proving popular with the more active visitors. Less popular was the new and terrible stench emanating from one of the old shafts close to one trail at a lookout point. And so, Dennis, known to everyone locally as the go-to bloke for everything pothole related, had taken a call from the Centre the day before and immediately contacted Gareth to see if he was up for it. He was. Or, at least, in the bravado buzz following three pints of Brains SA, courtesy of the Black Lion pub, where he’d been when he took the call, he had been. But in the here and now, geared up with his two significantly more senior colleagues, second thoughts were intruding. He wasn’t a complete novice, of course. He’d been down deep holes dozens of times and had even pitched up to offer his services at Ffynnon Ogof Du in the Beacons when a guy got trapped after falling and breaking his jaw. One of almost a hundred that turned up to offer support; a sentiment which had been applauded and admired as an example of how close knit a community cavers were. But this… This was different. This was unglamorous, nitty-gritty stuff; just him at the bottom with the other two at the top as support. Gareth glanced towards the raised square of dry stones marking the spot where the third member of the team, Arfon, had set up some ropes and equipment. ‘Heat probably doesn’t help,’ Gareth said. ‘With the smell, I mean.’ Arfon nodded. ‘If it is a sheep or a fox that’s fallen in there, it’ll be cooking nicely. Mid-day the sun can get right in. Gas mark two, I reckon.’ Gareth nodded, not appreciating what Arfon’s black humour was doing to his stomach after a bit too much fried breakfast that morning. Arfon looked up and called across. ‘Ready?’ ‘No time like the present, I suppose.’ Gareth flicked the switch and checked his helmet light against the palm of his left hand, gave the harness around his shoulders a tweak, and walked to the edge. ‘Funny, I can’t see anything down there.’ Arfon pointed his torch into the dark void one last time. ‘Unless whatever fell in triggered a covering