“Mission.”
She cocked her head at the correction, her temper getting the better of her. “Are you angry about something, or are you always this pleasant to be around?”
He stared at her but didn’t answer.
She huffed, trying a different tack. “Look, I’m sorry if you had other things to do. This isn’t exactly what I’d planned to be doing right now, either.”
“No? And what did you have planned?”
“Laundry. Maybe some grocery shopping.”
He moved toward her and she backed up instinctively, her butt hitting the edge of the counter. His expression was inscrutable and oddly threatening, and her heart galloped with alarm. She didn’t even know this man, yet she’d let him into her safe space and trusted him to protect them, and she was suddenly wondering if that had been a mistake.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. Been a hell of a week. We were preparing for that mission, and the tension’s been high. Then you called and I had to switch gears completely, have another guy go in my place.” His lips changed position and she wondered if he was attempting to smile. “Sorry if I came off as a jerk.”
His stare accomplished what his apology failed to do, affecting her. His eyes were gorgeous, with sooty lashes and irises of rainbow hazel that changed from blue at the outside to green, then golden brown. Worse yet, they seemed to pierce her defenses and shoot straight to her soul, and she folded her arms across her chest to ward off the sudden sensation of nakedness. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you had to come all this way, though I do appreciate it.”
He moved to the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to do the same. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I need a cup of tea. Do you want some? Or coffee?” She moved to the machine on the counter.
“No thanks.”
She busied herself finding a cup and a tea bag. “My mother and I have barely talked in years. A few phone calls from her to borrow money. I guess you could say we were estranged.” She started the machine and leaned back against the counter. “Then today, she called me out of the blue, saying she was in trouble and concerned for her safety.” She cocked her head. “Oh, and she told me I had a five-year-old sister, which goes to show how long it’s been since Marilyn and I had spoken.”
“Marilyn is your mother.”
“Yes.” She took her cup to the island, stirring two heaping teaspoons of sugar into the brew before heading to the refrigerator for milk. “She didn’t like me to call her ‘Mom’ in front of her boyfriends. As I got older, I didn’t like calling her ‘Mom’ at all.”
“So, there wasn’t a lot of love lost between you.”
An image of the fiery trailer sprung to her mind. Hearing the truth so plainly spoken after what had transpired today brought a rush of emotion, and tears to her eyes. “It’s not that simple,” she croaked, taking a seat beside him at the table. “She wasn’t a very good mother.” She looked into the swirling liquid in her cup. “But for the longest time, when I was little, I didn’t care. I just loved her, you know?”
She was really crying now, and she swiped at her cheeks with her hands. “She drank too much, and she slept with tons of men, some of them for money.” Leaning back, she stared at a knot in the knotty-pine ceiling. “I didn’t figure that out until I was in high school. Kids can be cruel.”
“They sure can.”
She straightened, meeting his eyes full-on this time, surprised to see true sympathy there. “I grew up in one of the poorest towns in all of Mississippi, but we were the poorest people in it. At least, that I knew of.” She raised her eyebrows. “We certainly looked like the poorest.” She took a sip of her tea, slightly comforted by the warm mug in her hand. “As I got older I became ashamed. Then I did what all good daughters do. I blamed my mother.”
“What made you leave?”
She laughed without humor. “I’d wanted to leave for as long as I could remember.” She stared at the table. “Johnny Briggs and I got caught fooling around under the bleachers. Marilyn came to pick me up from the principal’s office. She called me a slut and a whore, told me I’d never amount to anything if I spread my legs that easily.” She met his eyes and shrugged. “We fought. It went downhill from there, and I was on the next bus out of town.”
“And that was the last time you talked to her?”
“Other than her begging for money? Yes.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “What did she say, exactly?”
Teslyn recounted their conversation in as much detail as she could remember. “She was scared. That much was obvious.” She told him how she’d found the trailer ablaze and Ivy hiding behind the shed, about her phone call to Rayne. “And now, here we are.”
“And what happens now?”
She cradled the cup in her hands. “I wish I knew. I’ve been wondering that for hours. Let’s assume Ivy’s right and Marilyn was murdered. Did they only want Marilyn dead, or were they trying to kill Ivy, too? She said there was a policeman there, and that he wouldn’t help her escape the burning trailer.” Her shoulders shook. “Or maybe she was dreaming, and no one even knew she was in the house.”
He nodded. “We need to find out if Ivy’s safe from the person or people who did this, but the only way to know that is to find out why Marilyn was murdered.”
A small voice from the kitchen doorway had them both twisting in their seats. “Because of my daddy,” said Ivy, her hair rumpled and her eyes red.
