Page 55 of The Girl and the Lies

“The police are here,” I tell her. “Tell us what happened.”

She lifts her head and sniffles. “I came home from the hospital and took a shower. I was hungry, so I made something to eat and watched some TV, just trying to unwind from everything. I was so tired, so I went upstairs to go to bed. I couldn’t bring myself to go into my bedroom, so I went to the guest room to sleep. I couldn’t fall asleep, and I heard the sound of the door opening down here. There’s an alarm on the front and back doors, but the one on the side door broke, so it didn’t go off. That’s how I knew for sure it was the side door. I could hear someone walking through the house toward the steps, and I panicked. I locked the door and screamed that I was calling for help,” she says.

“You didn’t see anyone?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I didn’t leave the room. But I know I heard someone walking down there.”

“The side door was standing partially open when I got here,” I say. “That’s actually how I got inside. Was that door locked when you got home?”

“I’m pretty sure it was,” she says. “We don’t use it very often. But it’s also a really old lock. We’ve been able to pick it to get inside when we’ve locked ourselves out before. We meant to replace it but just never thought about it. Maybe that’s how whoever attacked Marshall got in tonight.” Carla covers her face with her hands. “How could I be so stupid as to not check the locks? Why did I even come back here?”

“You have a lot on your mind,” I tell her. “But everything is fine now. We’re here. We just need to talk this through. You said you heard someone walking through the house. Did they say anything?”

“No,” she says. “I just heard footsteps.”

A knock on the front door makes all of us turn. I stand up and go to it. A nervous-looking woman in pajamas and a bathrobe is standing on the porch.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“I need to talk to the police,” she says.

“I’m an FBI agent,” I tell her. “What do you need?”

“I saw someone,” she says.

“Come in,” I say.

We go into the living room where Carla is making her statement to one of the officers. The officer looks up from the notes she’s writing and narrows her eyes at the neighbor.

“Bonnie?” Carla says, sounding confused.

“Who is this?” the officer asks.

“Bonnie Klein. She’s my next-door neighbor,” Carla says. “Bonnie, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I saw something, but I wasn’t sure, and then when I saw the police back here, I knew I needed to say something,” the shaky woman says. “I saw all the commotion that was happening here earlier tonight, and I didn’t know what happened, but it really shook me up.”

“Marshall was attacked,” Carla says.

Bonnie’s hands fly up to cover her mouth. “Oh god. Is he okay?”

“He’s in the hospital. I’ll know more tomorrow,” Carla says.

“I’m so sorry. I was afraid it was something like that since I knew both of you worked for that Tracy Ellis woman and everything that’s been happening. But I was hoping it was something else,” Bonnie says.

“Please tell us what you saw tonight,” I say, trying to move her along.

“I was just too anxious to sleep, so I was up in my sewing room, and I noticed a light go on outside. I looked out and saw that the motion-activated light on the Parrish house had come on.”

“That’s the neighbors behind me,” Carla explains.

“I saw what looked like someone running out of your backyard and in between the houses to the next street over,” she says.

It sounds very similar to what the neighbor described seeing after Sabrina Ward’s murder.

“Could you see any details about them?” I ask.

“I’m pretty sure it was a man just by the way they moved and their size, but I couldn’t really tell you how tall they were or anything. I wasn’t able to catch any real details. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m not being as helpful as I thought,” she says.

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