The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the shop as Patrick prepared to close for the day.

  He hadn’t heard the bell above the door, and when the man’s voice pierced the silence, his heart skipped a beat.

  “I notice the sign in the window saying that you do evaluations on antiques.”

  Patrick looked up from what he had been doing to see an elderly gentleman standing in the entrance.

  The sun streaming through the windows cast the man in relative darkness. Patrick’s eyes took a moment to adjust.

  His head was completely bald, and from the way the light reflected from the curve of his skull, Patrick would have sworn he had polished it with a buffer before leaving the house.

  “Um, yeah, we do.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I’m one of the owners here. What can I do for you?”

  The man approached the counter, and Patrick noticed the small package wrapped in a dusty old rag under his arm.

  “I was hoping you could take a look at this for me.”

  The package clunked heavily on the glass counter as he put it down in the space between them.

  “I discovered it a few days ago while going through some of my personal belongings held in storage.”

  The man unwrapped the cloth and revealed an exquisite gold cross inlaid with a single white stone.

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  It was a beautiful piece, covered with intricate engravings of the finest detail.

  Immediately, Patrick’s eyes were drawn to the stone. He suddenly felt as if an empty space had opened up around him, filled with gravity that pulled him in all directions.

  The next thing he remembered was reaching out and grabbing at the man’s arm to stop himself from falling.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  The cross was now covered and put away, but Patrick knew that the man had something valuable on his hands. Patrick felt a lingering strangeness clouding his mind. There was a gap; he reached for the memory, but it slipped away.

  “Where did you say you found it?”

  “In amongst certain other personal items, but I must confess, I have never seen it before, and I have no idea how it came to be amongst my possessions.”

  “Well, it’s definitely old,” he said finally. “I’d say about 150 to 200 years. And these markings — I’ve never seen anything like them before. The markings near the base here are unfamiliar to me, and it’s been made using a technique that, to be honest, I’m not familiar with.”

  Patrick put the cross on the counter.

  “So what would you estimate its value to be?” asked Potrevski.

  “Unfortunately, this piece is a little outside my field of expertise. I’m afraid I usually only deal with antique furniture, ceramics, and jewellery. I don’t see too many pieces like this in here,” explained Patrick. “I wouldn’t feel confident guessing at its value. But if you’d be willing to leave it with me for a few days, I know a man who could give an accurate appraisal. There’ll be no charge, of course.”

  The man studied Patrick intently for a moment. It was only a moment, but it made Patrick wary.

  “I'll leave it with you. Will the end of the week be long enough?”

  “That should be fine.”

  Patrick reached under the counter and pulled out a ledger filled with customers’ names, then plucked a pen from the cup beside the register and handed it to the man. He had the man write down his name, address, and phone number. Then Patrick wrote out a receipt to "Claudius Potrevski" as proof of delivery.

  “Thank you,” said Potrevski as he took the receipt. “I'll see you Friday.”

  “If it comes in before then,” said Patrick, “I’ll give you a call.”

  Without another word, Potrevski turned and walked out the door.

  As soon as the door swung shut, Patrick picked up the phone and called Alex.