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“It’s weird it has a lock, right?”

“No.”

That answer wasn’t helpful at all. Of course, I hadn’t exactly told him why we were here or given him a complete rundown of my conversation with his dad, then Gram. All Jackson knew was that I wanted to stop by to check on something, then we could have dinner.

“Gram said she keeps the poison in here. Or did. Honestly, I was too stunned by her admission to ask follow-up questions, so the timing isn’t clear.”

“When did she tell you this?”

“Earlier today.”

“Was the timing unclear because she plied you with a dessert?”

The amusement in his voice threatened to sidetrack me, but I stayed focused on the shed door. “Don’t just stand around looking adorable. Help me.”

He didn’t move. “One question. How are we going to find the poison?”

“With our eyes.” Seemed obvious to me. “The shed is, what, six-by-eight? There won’t be many places to hide it.”

“Uh-huh.”

That tone. He doubted my plan and now he had me doing it, too. “Come on. How hard can this be? We’ll know it when we see it.”

“Do you think it will be in a jar that says ‘poison’?”

Kind of?

He sighed at me. It sounded like he’d been holding it in for a while. “There are different kinds of poison. Some—”

“Nope.” He’d fully downshifted into lawyer mode. We didn’t have time for that. “As much as I’d love to hear you talk on this subject, let’s get moving. Those ladies are nosy. They could come out here at any time.”

“Second question.” He held up two fingers.

I didn’t need the hand gestures. I also couldn’t afford this delay. “You said you had one.”

“Consider it the second part of my initial question.” He talked fast enough to block any interruptions. “Why do we want to take the poison out of the locked shed, to the extent it’s even in there and we can identify it? Theoretically, isn’t it safest in there?”

We needed to bury it. Destroy it. Hide it away from the property. But mostly to keep it from Harlan. “Could we talk about this later?”

“We could until I saw your expression just now.” Jackson folded his arms in front of him and sent out a strongwe’re not doing anything until you talkvibe. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Kasey.”

I debated engaging in the time-honored skill of ignoring a direct question, but Jackson would be all over that sort of subterfuge. “Fine. Harlan. He said some things.”

“When the hell was this?”

“He reiterated the same stuff that was in the report. I’m not girlfriend material and so on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Look, none of this is important.” I tried to wave off the concerns but from the strained look on Jackson’s face I’d failed. “Your dad is on a mission that’s somehow spilled over into my work mess. If he comes over here, or convinces the ladies to listen to a pitch, he’ll be walking around, maybe with Micah and Brock, and we can’t risk them stumbling over the poison.”

“Are you saying or, more accurately, trying not to say Dad threatened you?”

Jackson seemed to be stuck on the point I’d tried to dance around. “Harlan talked about the business and how Gram and Celia depended on his goodwill for clients. He chose his words carefully, but you know how he is.”