“To the right,” he said dismissively.

After Jacky left, Dr. Montero said, “You certainly have a way with women, Dr. Murdoch.”

Marty let that slide and said, “Would you mind emailing me a link to that video when you have a chance?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she told him. “What did you think of it?”

“You conducted the necropsy commendably, and the discovery of the skull was believable.”

“Believable?” She appeared amused. “Of course it was believable. It was a real necropsy.”

“What I mean is, I’ve fallen for an elaborate mermaid hoax before…”

“And now you’re seeing mermaid hoaxes everywhere? Let me be perfectly clear then, Dr. Murdoch. My colleagues and I didn’t plant that skull. We’re not chasing our fifteen minutes. I didn’t solicit Miss DeSilva to come to Mirissa; she contacted me. Really, to think I orchestrated some sort of elaborate plan to lure you down here to lend credence to a publicity hoax is simply preposterous. Not to mention insulting.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth. I don’t think any of that at all. I’ve been perfectly clear that I believe the skull to be authentic.”

“You know…I envy you, Dr. Murdoch.” She picked up the skull, studying it for a few silent moments. When she spoke, she seemed to be addressing it rather than him. “When I was a child, there were about a hundred beat-up National Geographic magazines in my family’s basement. I used to pore over them for hours and hours on end. I always imagined I was one of the adventurer-scientists in the pictures, traveling the world over and seeing things that no one else would ever see firsthand. In high school I became fascinated with the seas and oceans and the secrets they held, and becoming an oceanographer was a no-brainer. It combined everything I loved: travel, discovery, mystery.” She returned the skull to the table. “My point, Dr. Murdoch, is this. That was a long time ago. I’m forty-three years old now, and that magical sense of adventure I once held dear, that magical belief there were mysteries to be uncovered around every corner and beneath every wave, that’s become a relic of the past. I don’t know where it’s gone, but it’s gone.” She smiled faintly at him. “But that’s not the case with you, is it? The world is still mysterious and wondrous in your eyes. It must be…”

“Because I believe in merfolk?”

“Because you believe in something…so fantastic…yes.”

Marty considered that—not sure whether it was a compliment or veiled insult—and said, “As you well know, Dr. Montero, marine biology is a mathematical and topographical map, or model, of our oceans and everything inside them. A scientist’s personal beliefs relating to that model are irrelevant. All that matters is that he or she helps to create a more accurate model by uncovering more of its attributes, and thus knowledge and truth. And that is exactly what I am committed to discovering: knowledge and truth. I am not some self-delusional Pollyanna. I don’t believe in merfolk because I want to believe in them, because of some boyish wonder. I believe in them because my research has built a very strong case for their existence, and I would be derelict in my duty as a marine biologist and scientist to not pursue that case, whether it is ultimately proved to be true or not.”