One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (top rated ebook readers TXT) 📕

not allowed to anymore. We have a restraining order since he threatened me.”

At her words, Tara shared a quick glance with Warren, and she knew he thought it too—maybe the altercation took him over the edge.

“Have you seen him since?” Tara asked.

But the woman only shook her head again. As far as she knew, the restraining order had kept him away.

Tara asked her where he lived, and after she gave them directions, Tara and Warren stepped off the porch.

***

Tara and Warren stood on the porch of the man’s house. Tara lifted her fist and knocked on the door—it was the second time she had done so—and again they waited as Tara rested her hand upon her gun on her hip.

“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.

She turned back toward the man, who stared at her waiting for her to continue, and she finally pulled out the pictures of the victims, flashing them in front of him.

“Do any of these people look familiar to you?” she questioned. She stood up and handed them to him.

He flipped through each one and then shook his head.

“Just on the news,” he affirmed. He held the pictures back out to her.

Tara took the pictures from him, knowing this was yet another dead end, and she sat back down, defeated.

But all of a sudden, Warren briskly walked back into the living room, and she knew immediately he had something.

“Mills,” he said. “We gotta go.”

Tara quickly thanked the man for his time and soon after she was following Warren to the car.

“What is it?” she asked, as they approached the car.

He reached for the door handle as he spoke.

“Two more hikers went missing.”

Chapter Fifteen

Warren pulled onto the parkway as Tara finished entering the address into the GPS but paused briefly when entering the state—Vermont.

“The hikers went missing in Vermont?” Tara asked as she placed the GPS back down.

Warren nodded. “About fifteen miles southwest of Hanover,” he confirmed.

He had already filled her in on what he knew, but the fact that they had gone missing in a different state was a new detail to her. He had already informed her that it was another couple in their early twenties—that the local police got a call that very morning from the girlfriend’s worried aunt. Her niece was supposed to check in with her that morning, but after hours went by and she received no call, she got worried—especially knowing the events that happened on the trail in New Hampshire. And, after getting a general location of where the couple camped the night prior, it didn’t take long to find where they stayed. All that was left behind was a trail of blood and a compass, and they knew immediately that it was connected to the other cases.

Warren’s phone vibrated in the center console and he quickly picked it up and held it to his ear. Tara listened intently. She couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but there was an urgency in Warren’s face and tone and she knew it was something important. The call was brief and he soon placed the phone back down.

“Who was it?” Tara asked.

“The National Park