Free Pursued by Patricia H. Rushford Page B

stepped aside. “All right, but I’m coming too. No way am I staying in here alone.” They crept out of the guest room and down the hall to Allison’s bedroom. Jennie turned the knob and eased open the door. The room looked as perfect as when she and Lisa had first arrived. Despite the open window, a strong scent of cleaning solution assaulted their nostrils. “This is strange,” Jennie whispered. “Looks like someone’s been in here and cleaned.”
    Jennie knew even before she opened the bathroom door what she’d find. Nothing. Someone had wiped away every shred of evidence. “The police aren’t going to like this,” Jennie said, then realized with a start they’d probably never been called.
    â€œI’m scared, Jennie.” Lisa tugged at Jennie’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”
    â€œI can’t go yet. Something really strange is going on here, and I intend to find out what. Besides, even if the Beaumonts aren’t calling the cops, I am. I want to make sure I can give them a detailed report.”
    â€œYou’re right. We can’t give up now. Allison needs our help more than ever.”
    Using a washcloth so as not to leave any fingerprints, Jennie opened each drawer and searched through them.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?” Lisa asked.
    â€œThe lipstick. I was hoping maybe whoever did it might have left it behind. It could be an important clue.” Jennie rummaged through what looked like Allison’s makeup drawer. She found about a dozen tubes of lipstick, all in various shades of pink. Jennie closed the last drawer, then picked up the wastebasket. She ruffled through the trash and at the bottom found what she’d been looking for. “Hand me those tweezers,” Jennie said, pointing to an open drawer.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThere might be prints on it. I wonder where the cap is.”
    Lisa cringed when Jennie held up the shiny gold tube with its brilliant red lipstick worn down to the nub. “You think that’s the stuff he used?”
    Jennie shrugged. “Allison ever use red lipstick?”
    â€œNot that I recall.” Lisa wandered over to the open window and rubbed her arms. “What about Paige?”
    â€œYeah, she does sometimes.” Lisa nodded in the direction of the pool. They watched as B.J. climbed out of the pool, stretched out on a lounge chair, picked up a book, and began to read.
    â€œDoesn’t seem to be broken up about it, does she?”
    Jennie asked.
    â€œDo you think B.J. wrote the message?” Lisa asked. “I don’t know.” Before the incident with B.J. and her dad, Jennie would have bet on it, but something in her face—confusion, hurt—made Jennie question her original suspicions. “It’s too early to tell.” Tucking the lipstick into a plastic bag she found in one of the drawers, Jennie stepped away from the window and made another note on her pad regarding the cleanup and the red lipstick.
    As she read over the notes again, she stopped with the notation about the gunman of the night before.
    â€œLisa,” she mused, as she tapped the end of the pen against her lips, “do you think you can remember where Mr. B.’s gun case is? I think we ought to check it out.”
    Lisa led the way back to the main living area. “The gun collection is downstairs.” After opening two closets and a pantry, they found the stairs and followed them to the lower part of the house and into a long dark hallway.
    â€œWhere’s a light switch?” Jennie asked in a whisper as she felt along the wall.
    â€œI don’t know. There should be a bathroom…here.” Light flooded the small room, giving them enough light to find the switches in the other rooms.
    After going past an exercise room, a room that looked like a miniature movie theater, and a large storage closet, they found the den.
    â€œThis is