Jason shook his head and opened another file. It was a text document, a kind of diary or personal notes. I started reading, and the words seemed to jump off the screen.
August 15th. Talked to Victoria today. She confirmed that the plan is viable. Her parents lasted six months after they started with the small doses. No one suspected anything. The doctor attributed everything to age and health history.
My vision blurred. I continued reading, each line like a stab in my heart.
August 22nd. I need to be more careful. My mom is too observant. I am going to start slowly like Victoria suggested. First Dad, who is less attentive. Mom only later, when we are already closer to the goal.
September 3rd. First dose administered in Dad’s breakfast. He did not notice anything. Victoria said the symptoms only appear after a few weeks. They seem like natural things of age. Tiredness, forgetting things, dizziness.
I had to lean on the counter. Jason held me by the arm, worried.
“Are you okay, ma’am? Do you want to sit down? Do you want water?”
I could not answer. I continued reading, hypnotized by the horror of those words. My own son coldly documenting a plan to poison us. To kill us.
“Ma’am,” said Jason softly, “there is more, much more. There are exported text messages, emails, photos of documents. He was planning everything with the smallest detail.”
He opened another folder. There were screenshots of conversations between David and someone named Victoria. The messages were technical, cold, calculating. They discussed doses, symptoms, how to make it look natural, how to avoid suspicion.
I felt nausea rising in my throat. I ran to the shop bathroom and threw up. When I returned, pale and shaking, Jason had prepared a glass of water for me.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Barbara. I am truly sorry that you have to see this, but you needed to know.”
I sat in a chair, trying to process what I had just discovered. My son David. My only son. The one I carried for nine months. The one I nursed. The one I raised with all love and dedication.
He was planning to murder his father and me for money.
“Are you sure this is real?” I asked, still looking for some rational explanation. “It could be a work of fiction. Some creative project.”
Jason shook his head.
“Mrs. Barbara, I checked the dates. Some of these notes are from weeks ago, and there are receipts here. Invoices for online purchases of chemical substances. He even has notes on the times you and your husband eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not fiction.”
Reality fell on me like a bucket of cold water. It was real. All of it was terribly real.
I stayed sitting in that chair for several minutes, trying to make my brain process what my eyes had seen. Jason respected my silence, but I could feel his concern. He walked from one side of the small shop to the other, clearly not knowing what to do.
“Jason,” I managed to say finally, “can you copy all this for me? All these folders, all these files?”
He nodded immediately.
“Of course, Mrs. Barbara. In fact, I had already separated everything into a specific folder just in case you wanted it. I can move it to a USB drive.”
While he worked copying the files, my mind ran in a thousand different directions. How was this possible? How could my David, who was always so affectionate, so attentive, be planning something so monstrous?
I remembered all the times in the last few weeks that he had shown up at home without warning.
“I just stopped by to say hi,” he would say.
Always offering help in the kitchen. Always wanting to prepare coffee for his dad. Always being too helpful.
My God. All that had been part of the plan.
“Ready,” said Jason, handing me the USB drive. “It is all here. Mrs. Barbara, you need to go to the police, to the authorities. This is very serious.”
I took the USB with shaking hands and put it in my purse.
“Yes, I know. But first… first I need to talk to my husband. He has to know.”
“Are you sure you want to go back home? What if your son shows up there?”
The question froze my blood. David had a key to the house. He could show up at any moment. And if he suspected that we had discovered something…
“The laptop,” I said suddenly. “David is going to want the laptop back. If I do not take it, he is going to get suspicious.”
Jason thought for a moment.
“I have an idea. I am going to restore the laptop exactly as it was before I opened those folders. I am going to delete even the browsing history and the access logs. So he will not know that anyone saw anything.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can. Give me 15 minutes.”
While Jason worked, I sat again and tried to organize my thoughts. I needed to be smart. If David discovered that we knew something, he could accelerate his plans or try something immediate.
I took out my cell phone and sent a message to Robert.
Honey, I need to talk to you urgently when you get home. It is very important. Do not talk to anyone about this. Not even to David if he calls you.
Robert replied almost immediately.
Is everything okay? You are worrying me.
I am fine, but it is serious. I will tell you when I arrive.
Fifteen minutes later, Jason handed me the laptop, ready.
“It is exactly as I found it when I turned it on for the first time. He will not suspect anything.”
