That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe (Abieville Love Stories #4)

Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sara

Abieville’s sheriff station is on the small side and a lacking in natural light, but it’s definitely more modern on the inside than stereotypes suggest about a town this size. Instead of ancient computers and rickety chairs, the furnishings look recently updated. There’s a well-appointed coffee cart in one corner, and the walls sport giant cork boards full of brightly colored fliers.

The place is mostly empty, which I’m guessing is fairly typical for a Monday afternoon. The only people in the station are the deputy, the sheriff, and a miserable Sully Ackerman.

On the drive over, Three filled me in on what he’d learned from Sheriff Bender. Apparently a witness reported Sully breaking into Abieville High, and he was already inside the building by the time Deputy Townsend caught him.

The sheriff contacted Three to see about pressing charges since he’s the summer school administrator and the principal’s away for Christmas. According to Three, the district has a zero-tolerance policy for illegal activity on school property, so Sully’s looking at a week’s suspension just for breaking in. Anything worse could mean an expulsion.

He’d lose his scholarship to OSU.

“Thanks for coming in,” the sheriff says. He could be a few years older than Three, but he still looks pretty young to be in charge of an entire town’s law enforcement. He’s handsome in a subtle, straight-arrow kind of way, as opposed to Carver Townsend’s in-your-face brand of attractiveness. Speaking of which, Carver looks up from his computer, pushes his chair back and hops to his feet.

“Sara Hathaway. Twice in two days.” He tips his hat. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah,” Three mutters. “Not so lucky for Sully.” He turns away from Carver, obviously worried about his student.

“Hey, Sully.” I offer the kid a sympathetic wave. He was so helpful at Humboldt Farms, I really want to be on his side. Right now the poor thing is slumped next to the sheriff’s desk in a way-too-small-for-him chair. His face is all jawline and cheek bones held together by ghost-white skin. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Miss Hathaway.” He bobs his head, then casts a pained look at Three. “Sorry, Mr. Fuller.”

“I’m sure you are.” Three drags two chairs over and motions for me to sit. He takes the other seat, then leans back, acting casual. He’s probably hoping Sully will feel more comfortable and loosen up. “Wanna tell us what happened?”

Sheriff Bender answers for him. “An hour ago, Deputy Townsend responded to a call about a break-in at the school. He found Sully in the girl’s locker room with a couple cans of spray paint.”

Three blows out a breath. “Vandalism?”

The sheriff nods. “Cut and dry.”

“Was anyone else with you?” Three asks Sully.

Carver jumps in to answer this time. “He was operating alone. ”

Three furrow his brow. “Thanks, but I was asking Sully.”

“Sorry.” Carver lifts his hands. “Just reporting the facts. No one else was on the scene. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because Sully immediately confessed.”

“Hold on.” I lean forward, my attorney side kicking in. “Did you feel coerced into making a statement?”

“I didn’t intimidate him, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” Carver arches an amused brow. “And I wasn’t arresting him either, so there was no need for Miranda rights, if you were wondering about that too.”

“No.” I press my lips together. “I just want to be sure the boy’s being fairly treated.”

“Fair’s my middle name.” Carver smiles, then he swings his focus back to Three. “Sully told me the spray paint was part of spirit week. That he was supposed to be in the girls locker room to support the basketball team. That sound accurate to you?”

At this the sheriff chimes in. “I’m sure Mr. Fuller would say that damaging school property is the opposite of spirit.”

Three’s got his eyes trained on Sully, like he’s looking for clues. “Is this true?”

“Yeah,” Sully says. But he’s staring down at his big hands folded in his lap. He won’t make eye contact, and his response came awfully quickly. There’s got to be more to this story.

“Where’s the paint now?” Three asks.

“Right here,” Sheriff Bender says, bringing a canvas bag over to us. “What’s left of it, anyway. He already used plenty.” Two metal cans clank together as he hands over the bag.

Three takes a look inside, lifts his gaze to Sully. “Red and pink?”

Sully stiffens. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm.” Three rubs his chin. “If you were trying to support the basketball team, I’d expect you’d use our school colors. Black and green.”

“I like red and pink,” Sully grumbles.

“I do too.” Three hitches his shoulders. “It is strange, though. We’re in the middle of winter break right now, and the first spirit week in second semester doesn’t start until midway through January.”

“Tell him what you were painting,” Carver says.

Sully’s face gets blotchy, and he averts his eyes. “Nothing. It was dumb.”

The sheriff shakes his head. “Might’ve been dumb, but it wasn’t nothing.” He turns to Three. “The kid sprayed a bunch of hearts all over one of the lockers.”

“He was working on the words ‘will you go’ when I apprehended him,” Carver interjects.

“I said it was dumb,” Sully chokes. “I didn’t think it would be big deal.”

Will you go. Red and Pink hearts. Girl’s locker room . The whole thing’s starting to make sense.

“Hey, Sully.” Three tilts his head. “You were gonna ask Cami Anderson to the Valentine’s Day Formal, weren’t you?”

His eyes pop wide, like he can’t believe anyone solved the mystery. “The sheriff didn’t say it was Cami’s locker.”

“No, he did not.” Three chuckles softly. “But I’ve seen the way you look at that girl. You’ve had your eyes on her ever since my seating chart put you two in desks right next to each other.”

“It was a promposal,” I say, offering Sully a smile of support.

He nods, but he still looks miserable. I would too if my college scholarship was on the line. “She was supposed to find the message when we got back from winter break.” He blows out a breath. “It was going to be the first clue in a two-week scavenger hunt leading to … me.”

“A prom what?” the sheriff asks.

“Ah, come on, Preston.” Three pushes out an amused scoff. “What are you, a hundred years old? That’s how the kids ask each other to the big dances now. They come up with these grand gestures, like baking cakes, making posters, or hijacking the intercom in the middle of morning announcements. ”

“Please don’t tell my mom and dad,” Sully blurts, and it occurs to me for the first time that Three’s the adult they called here.

“Where are your parents?” I ask.

Sully grimaces. “They drove up to Rochester to bring my sister home for Christmas. She doesn’t have a car up at the U, so instead of having her take the train again, they made it a family day-trip.” His voice cracks on that last part. “They asked me to go with them,” he adds, “but I said I had too much stuff to do.”

Sheriff Bender frowns. “Stuff like vandalizing the high school?”

“All right.” Three throws up a hand. “Listen, Preston. You called me down here to decide if the district wants to press charges, and as the official administrator today, I’m going to go ahead and say there’s no need. We’re all good.”

“Really?” The sheriff scoffs. “You aren’t worried about the precedent?”

“I’m not. Because Sully and I are going to repaint Cami’s locker before anyone else has to find out about this.” Three turns to face Sully. “Aren’t we, Sullivan?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Fuller.” Sully nods so frantically, I’m afraid his head might roll right off his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Three clears his throat. “I happen to know there’s leftover paint in the custodial closet from when they redid the locker rooms a couple years back. Repainting shouldn’t take too long. In fact, I figure we can go take care of that right now.” He swivels to address me. “If that’s all right with you, Sara.”

“Of course.” A slow smile breaks across my face. “I’ll drive you to the school.”

“Thank you too, Ms. Hathaway.” Sully’s hands shake as he rises to his feet. “And I’m really sorry, Sheriff Bender. Deputy Townsend.” He hunches his shoulders. “I promise something like this will never happen again.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Three says. “ But next time? Skip the grand gesture and go with something a little more from the heart.”

“Like what?” Sully asks.

“Make the girl a grilled cheese sandwich.”