Page 74 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
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 wassupposedto 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,” Sullygrumbles.
“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.”
