Little was ever learned about the fate of the merfolk body under lock and key in Sri Lanka, but the holotype at Oxford University was transferred to the National History Museum in London, where it was put on display under the appropriate conditions to ensure it would be preserved for posterity.

As for Marty, there were those, of course, who remained outraged that he’d killed what they believed had been “defenseless” and “innocent” merfolk. Yet most people sympathized with his plight—the creatures had been trying to eat him, after all, and the one he’d killed point-blank had been halfway through eating his assistant—and they held no antipathy to his actions. Instead, he was largely celebrated, and his aquatic-ape theory became mainstream science. He was quickly flooded with offers for book deals and television appearances, and he was even approached by executives at Netflix to star in a new merfolk documentary. He turned all of the overtures down, opting to lead a quiet life in the English countryside with Rad, who had just become pregnant with Sara. After a restless year, however, he decided he was not a homebody. With Rad fully recovered from her fall (with the exception of an almost imperceptible limp), he returned to teaching at the University of Cambridge. His lectures remained the most popular on campus year after year until he retired five years ago. Now he spent his days painting, gardening, and raising his two boys—and he was more content than he had ever been at any other point in his life.

All right, old man, he thought. Enough reminiscing. Better get back out there before Rad comes looking for you and gives you an earful.

When he returned to the table, a tall woman in a black dress was seated in the previously empty chair. She was speaking to Rad, her shoulder-length blonde hair masking her profile.

Marty’s pulse quickened, and he said, “Elsa…?”

The woman looked at him and smiled. “Marty!” She stood and they embraced warmly.

Stepping apart, he said, “My God! It’s wonderful to see you. I didn’t think you would come.”

“Do you blame me? Look what happened the last time I accepted an invitation from you.”

Marty chuckled. “Your decision to accept then was just as last minute, if I remember correctly.” He studied her strong, attractive features, realizing that he had all but forgotten what she looked like until this moment. “You look fantastic. Like you haven’t aged a day.”

“Please, Marty. I’m nearly seventy. But thank you for the kind words.”

They both sat, and Rad said, “Elsa and I were just talking about where she’s been all these years. You’ll never guess, Marty.”

“Mirissa?” he said.

“I returned to Hartford shortly after the Sri Lankan police relinquished my passport.”

He was surprised. “You’ve been there all this time?”

“And you’ll never believe what she’s been doing, Marty,” said Rad.