"Marshall, its OK. I'm on your side. I know all about you. People have been expecting you for a long time. Though I get the feeling nobody really knows you're here yet. Who does know you are here?" she asked.
Questions flew through my mind so fast I couldn't keep up.
"What could you possibly know about me?" Her head tilted a fraction, and her brow furrowed. Her face softened into some kind of understanding before she finally spoke.
"Your mother is missing, and your brother and father are supposedly dead. You grandfather is old now, and wanting to retire...his tools are missing and you're looking for..."
"All right, enough..." I said, looking around. She knew way more than I imagined. The next question was how did she know so much. But that's not what I asked.
"Somebody tried to kill me back on the mainland - a guy with a knife," I felt for the handle through the thin cotton of my shirt.
"What did he look like?" she asked.
"Kinda tall, thin. Ugly and bleeding. I smashed his nose with a can of beans. He followed me down to the wharf," I explained.
"So someone knows you've arrived. Marshall, you're not safe. I can help you, if you will let me,"
"Why should I? I don't even know you,"
"I think I can help you find your mother. You just have to trust me, " she said.
It was the trump card that won my hand.
"Let's talk then..." I said, re-linking our arms.
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