The old man feel devastated. All his attempts to convince the detective and plead to him had come to naught. What was he going to do that could free him from this situation? The old man didn't have money to get a lawyer, so he was helpless. The old man clasped his hands together as sweat dripped down his face profusely. With that amount of sweat, it would have been enough to fill a bucket.
Oliver placed the syringe away and placed the documents back in front of him. He flipped through the pages and paused when he had gotten to a specific page. Oliver looked up at the old man and studied him for a while. He really didn't want to push the old man further due to his anxious demeanor, but Oliver didn't have a choice. He exhaled sharply and laid his back on the chair.
"Your wife, how old was she, when she passed away?" Oliver quizzed him.
