Once he got some sleep, Ellison thought, he’d see about having this idiot reassigned to some much less important investigation. But he’d have to remember who the hell he was first. And, he recalled with an effort, there was something else he needed to know. Something urgent. He rubbed his hand across his face and then remembered.

“These caves were both iced over?” Ellison asked.

It took the young agent a moment to catch up with the change of subject, but then he nodded his stubbly head. “Foot-thick ice in both of them, yeah. The teams had to use drills to open up a way through to the shore. Rotten conditions everyone’s been working in.”

“And of course . . .” Ellison pursued. “Of course I would have been informed immediately if there was any indication that the inhabitants were still using these caves or that they’d been in them recently? Any sign that . . .” He couldn’t think clearly enough to finish the sentence.

“Oh—the caves were abandoned weeks ago!” The shaved head nodded emphatically. “That’s obvious.”

“Why obvious?”

“Well—the ice, the garbage. Mold on everything . . .”

“So you’re also making the assumption that mermaids are good housekeepers, then? They don’t read Jane Austen, and they certainly can’t stand a mess?” Ellison asked sarcastically, but he didn’t actually care about the answer, and he barely listened to the sputtering reply.

If the mermaids were gone, even temporarily, then he didn’t need to keep worrying that Dorian would be murdered. At least not for now. In the morning he’d give orders to have both caves continually monitored in case the mermaids returned.

The stubble-headed young man was still talking as Ellison got up, not pretending to pay attention anymore, and dropped to lie flat on his back on the worn beige carpet. He didn’t even know if the gray haze that clouded his mind was sleep.

∗ ∗ ∗