Derek pulled his right hand out of his pocket.

He was holding a small, silver object that glinted under the bare bulb of the boiler room.

It was a USB flash drive.

“What is that?” Carl asked, squinting.

“It’s them,” Derek said, his voice barely audible over the hum of the boiler.

“I set my phone to record on the kitchen counter last week,” Derek explained.

“They were sitting at the table, going over the ledger,” he said.

“Jake was explaining how they were going to transfer the deed,” Derek said.

“And Mom was laughing about it,” he added, his voice breaking.

I closed my eyes, my fingers clawing into the brick wall behind me.

My own son had wiretapped me.

“It’s all on here,” Derek said, stepping closer to Carl.

“The voice memos, the dates, the bank routing numbers they copied,” he said.

“Every single word of their plan to lock you out of your own property,” Derek said.

Carl stared at the small silver drive in Derek’s hand.

He did not reach for it immediately.

“Why are you doing this, Derek?” Carl asked. “She’s your mother.”