The printer spat out the final page of the bank statements.
I stacked the warm sheets of paper on the desk.
The paper smelled of cheap ink and hot rollers.
I slid the document pile into a heavy manila folder.

My phone rang again, the screen displaying Luis’s name from the front desk.
“Mr. Collins, I have the USB drive ready for you,” Luis said.
“I will come down to the lobby to get it,” I replied.
“No need, sir, I can have the desk attendant cover for me while I bring it up.”
“Thank you, Luis, I appreciate your discretion.”

I waited by my door, listening to the hum of the high-rise elevator.
A moment later, a quiet knock sounded on the wood.
I opened the door to find Luis holding a small black flash drive.
“This has the footage from the service elevator and the garage doors from last Tuesday,” Luis said.
“Did you see who was with my mother?” I asked.