Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)(99)

The girl was turned toward the lights, rosy in sleep and glowing from the red bulb that was directly above her face. With her long eyelashes and slightly parted lips, she looked like a porcelain doll with rouge-painted cheeks. In the silence of the shop, with only the hum of the cooler behind the counter, Hannah could hear her breathing softly in slumber.

Hannah admired the picture she made for a moment, and then she put her investigational skills to work. The girl’s fingernails were clean and so were her clothes and her sleeping bag. That meant she hadn’t been on the streets for long. She wasn’t starving, either. Her left arm, the one that wasn’t covered by the sleeping bag, was nicely rounded. On the whole she looked healthy and younger than Hannah had expected.

People usually looked younger while they slept. The cares and worries of the day were erased by peaceful oblivion, and a stress-free persona emerged. Perhaps this girl wasn’t as young as she looked, but Hannah had her doubts. She seemed innocent, almost untried, on the brink of discovery but not yet comfortable with her newly adult form.

Hannah began to frown. She really hated to wake her uninvited boarder just to tell her that she could sleep in the coffee shop. It was almost the same as a nurse waking a patient in the hospital because it was time for a sleeping pill. If the girl was a runaway, there was little joy in her life. And right now she appeared to be dreaming about something pleasant, judging by the half-smile on her face. It seemed a shame to shatter her happiness, but it had to be done and the sooner the better. There was no way Hannah was going to let someone who appeared to be far younger than her youngest sister go back on the streets again! Besides, Norman was standing outside the front door shivering, and it was time to let him in.

“Wake up,” Hannah said softly, hoping she wouldn’t cause the girl to panic. “I need to talk to you.”

The girl groaned an inarticulate protest and made a little moue of distaste. “Not yet. Go ’way, Mom.”

She had a mother. Hannah added that to the mental list of facts and suppositions she’d gathered. “Come on, now. Wake up. You can go back to sleep right after you talk to me.”

The girl looked as though she was going to roll over and ignore the intrusion, but then some internal sense of preservation must have kicked in. She sat up with a jolt, her eyes flew open, and she stared hard at Hannah. “Who are you?”

“Hannah Swensen. This is my coffee shop. Who are you?”

“I’m Candy.”

“Candy who?”

“Candy R…never mind. You don’t need to know my name.” The girl wiggled from her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Please don’t call the cops. I’m leaving right now.”

And before Hannah could open her mouth to say that there was no need to run, the girl grabbed her sleeping bag and raced for the front door, unlocking it in a flash and dashing out.

“Good grief!” Hannah gasped, hardly believing her eyes. She’d never seen anyone move that fast. It was obvious that the girl had been prepared for rude awakenings. She’d slept in her clothes and she must have hidden her other belongings in the bottom of her sleeping bag. All that was left to prove she’d been there in the first place was a bare spot on the floor where she’d moved a table and two chairs so she could stretch out.

“Let me go! Come on, Mister! Please? I wasn’t hurting anything, really I wasn’t!”

Hannah hurried to the door to help Norman, who’d caught the fleeing runaway as she’d rushed out into the night. “It’s okay, Candy. We didn’t call the police and we’re not going to. You’ve got my permission to stay here for the night.”

“I do?” Candy still looked frightened, but her struggles diminished noticeably. She gave another twist to try to get away from Norman’s grasp, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it.

“How about some hot chocolate?” Hannah suggested, motioning for Norman to escort her to the kitchen. “You don’t want to catch a cold, dashing outside like that without your coat.”

Candy gave a little nod. “That would be great, but being outside in the cold doesn’t give you a cold. My dad said that when people tell you that, it’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“But I’m not married and I’m not that old,” Hannah shot back, and she was gratified when Candy laughed. For someone who’d been jolted out of sleep by a stranger and had fled into the bitterly cold night with all her belongings, she had managed to maintain her sense of humor. “Is your dad a doctor?”

“My dad was a vet. He’s dead now. You’re sure you didn’t call the cops on me?”

“Of course I didn’t. This is a small town. If I’d called them, they’d be here by now.”

Candy turned to Norman. “How about you? Did you call them?”

“Not me. My cell phone’s still in the car.” Norman glanced down at Candy’s feet. “Isn’t it hard to climb into a sleeping bag when you’re wearing tennis shoes?”

“Not if you unzip it all the way. Getting out is the hard part. The soles stick to the lining of the bag and you have to keep tugging it down.”

“Maybe you should think about wearing two pairs of socks. Then your feet would be warm and you wouldn’t have to bother with shoes.”

Candy shook her head. “I don’t do it to keep my feet warm. I have to be prepared in case I need to run.”