“I’m comin’!” they heard.

The voice shook with age, causing Tara to look toward Warren—they were both surprised to hear the voice of an old man—and her hand relaxed.

The man slightly opened the door. But even the door was a weight too heavy for him and he just leaned against it, with his cane in the other hand.

“What do you want?” he growled.

Tara held up her badge. “We’re investigating the murder that happened a couple houses down.”

The man’s lips curled in disgust. “I don’t know nothin’,” he sneered.

“We just want to see if you heard anything. We’re asking all the neighbors,” Tara insisted.

It was a lie, but Tara knew this man would never let them in if he felt targeted.

His face relaxed as he let out a grunt.

“Come in,” he sighed as he let go of the door and hobbled across the floor.

They followed him into a living room, where a musty smell lingered in the air. The man took a seat on a chair and motioned for them to sit on the couch across from him.

“Just move all that over,” he said as he pointed with his cane to a few newspapers strewn about the couch.

Tara carefully pushed them aside and sat on the edge as Warren did the same.

The man sat with an air of relief, clearly happy to be off his feet.

“Well, what do you need to ask me?” he growled.

Tara shifted a bit closer to the edge of the couch.

“Were you here when the murder happened?” she asked.

“Yes,” he confirmed as he pulled a footstool closer and used both his hands to reach down and pick up his leg.

He placed it on the stool, and Tara wondered how this man could even go for a walk, let alone murder someone. She already knew in her mind that he wasn’t the killer, but wanted to see what he knew.

“Did you hear anything that day?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I heard the sirens and later learned what happened on the news,” he said.

Tara looked down at his leg. She had a hard time believing that this man walked through the woods often, like the woman said.

“Do you walk the trail often?” she asked skeptically.

He let out another grunt. “Not since that bitch put a restraining order on me,” he snapped. He then lowered his voice. “I used to walk to help my leg, but my arthritis has gotten a lot worse—it’s getting harder and harder to get around—and now that I can’t access the trail easily, well—” He looked off into the distance, trying to ease a sudden rush of anger. “It’s probably her fault my leg seized up,” he finally muttered.

Suddenly, Warren’s phone rang.

“I gotta take this,” he said to Tara as he got up and stepped outside. Tara watched him go for a moment, wondering what it could be. Maybe another development in the case.