Page 71 of The Hardest Hit

Jackson hesitated, but the phone dinged again and he rolled his eyes.

“Yes.”

Evan reached over and yanked the phone out.

“Texts from Kerschel,” said Evan. He was vaguely aware of the name as one of the people that Jackson had on payroll.

“What do they say?”

Evan tapped the phone, but it went immediately to the lock screen. Without taking his eyes off the road, Jackson reached out and used his thumbprint to unlock it.

“Cryptocurrency workshop a total bust, but double-data encryption is hot,” read Evan. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jackson sighed. “OK, so basically I employ a bunch of juvenile delinquents.”

“I assumed so,” said Evan, eyeing the text about encryption.

“But when I send them to conferences without adult supervision, do you know what they do?”

“Get wasted and fraternize?” guessed Evan.

“Uh, yeah. So I make them text me reports on their sessions. It’s not foolproof, but it does mean that they have to work harder to day drink. Kerschel is currently at a tech conference. I understand none of her texts, but that’s basically why I pay her.”

“She’s really good?” asked Evan with a sinking feeling.

Jackson snorted. “The only reason I’ve been able to keep her from being poached by like six Silicon Valley start-ups is that I provide benefits and periodically she gets to do something illegal and play with guns. Don’t tell Grandma any of that though.” He added the last part as an afterthought.

Evan looked down at Jackson’s phone in his hand. The background picture was the four of them from their first Christmas together in the stupid hats that Aiden had made them wear. Usually, Evan didn’t like looking at old pictures of himself—it was too obvious that no one was home. But in this one, he actually looked happy.

“Jackson,” he said, swallowing hard. “Jackson, if I tell you something, are you going to tell Grandma?”

“No,” said Jackson.

Evan gathered up his courage. He could do this. He should have done it months ago, but he’d been avoiding it like he avoided anything scary and then blaming it on Jackson being untrustworthy. That was bullshit and he knew it.

“I found something in the storage unit last year. When I went to put those boxes back.”

Jackson pulled up at a stoplight and turned to look at him more fully. “Like what kind of something?”

“An autopsy report. Uncle Randall had Grandpa exhumed and autopsied. Without Grandma knowing. He was the executor of the will. He could do that. Light’s green.”

Jackson jerked slightly in his seat and then put the car in motion, but at the next empty spot on the curb, he pulled over. Evan handed him his phone back and Jackson looked like he couldn’t remember why he had it.

“OK, I get that Randallcoulddo that,” said Jackson, tucking his phone away. “The question is:whywould he do that?”

“Because he thought Grandma killed Grandpa.”

“Well, fuck,” said Jackson. “Uh… Do you think she did?”

Evan shrugged. “Maybe. The autopsy said it was consistent with a medication overdose. I think at a minimum, that RandallthoughtGrandma did it.”

“Well, fuck,” said Jackson again. “I’m not sure what I think about that.”

“I think I’m fine with it,” said Evan. “I’ve had a year to sit with it and basically… I don’t give a shit. I know some of the stuff Henry did to Dad and Randall and he can’t have treated Grandma any better. I think he deserved it. But I think I’m fucking scared that someone else could find out about it though.”

“Fuuuuuck,” said Jackson for a third time. “What’d you do with the autopsy report?”

“I put it in my safe at home. I haven’t found any other copies. But, Jackson…”