Chapter Fourteen
Seth's blood pressure had been on a steady climb, with each new event contributing to the clusterfuck of all clusterfucks. He'd nearly reached stroke-inducing levels when he couldn't get ahold of Rueben after Quinton Carson escaped custody. The successful ambush detonated explosive allegations, accusations, and endless finger pointing between the law enforcement agencies. Luckily, both marshals avoided grave injuries, and their return fire took out one of the gunmen and likely injured Quinton. The downed assailant turned out to be Jasper Odell, which connected several dots, raised more questions, and fueled a lot of speculation. What was the end game? Was the point of the ambush to help Quinton escape, or did they have a bigger agenda? Did he get as far away as fast as he could, or had he stuck around to take care of the other people who could testify against him?
As soon as the idea struck, Seth gave up trying to be discreet to salvage his reputation. He'd ignored the unveiled hostility aimed in his direction as he frantically tried to reach Rueben. A call to Redemption Ridge accomplished two things: he found out Keegan was safe and asked Nick, a former FBI agent, to check on Rueben. Not even that was enough to quell his unease, so he'd headed out of the station with Lyndhurst and Agent Johansen on his heels, demanding to know where he was going and why. Rueben was the only thing that mattered to him, not his job and certainly not their opinions. Seth had prepared to leave them behind, but the assholes had jumped into his SUV before he could pull away. He'd fucked up enough and didn't need to add assaulting a federal officer or the county prosecutor to the mix. Seth had given them an overview of his secret during the drive but blocked out their reactions.
Now that he held Rueben safely in his arms, it was time to pay the piper. He pressed a kiss to Rueben's forehead and whispered, "It's about to get really ugly."
Rueben's big brown eyes brimmed with love. "Bring it on. I took down that son of a bitch. Next man up."
"Seth." Tony's voice was firm but not hostile. "Let's go see if we can figure out who this guy is while another officer gets a statement from Mr. Sanchez."
He held Rueben's gaze for a few more heartbeats before he lowered his arms and stepped back. "This is almost over, and everything will work out."
"You better hope so," Tony whispered as they walked away. "Christ, I can't figure out where your head has been. This stunt could cost you everything if it gets out."
Seth halted his steps. "Not if, Tony." The prosecutor stopped and whirled to face him. "When. I won't compound my mistakes by engaging in an elaborate cover-up."
Seth didn't yet have a solid game plan in mind, but he knew that much, at least. Some could argue—okay, mostly Seth argued—that he should've made a contingency plan for when his relationship with Rueben came to light. Standing in the revelation's aftermath, he fully understood that it was always going to happen. Seth's lack of preparation could mean that someone else got to tell his narrative, and in the wrong hands, his story could get twisted and turned into something ugly when loving Rueben was the definition of beautiful. The two men engaged in a silent showdown that ended with a brief nod from Lyndhurst. Seth thought he saw a shimmer of begrudging respect in the prosecutor's gaze, but he wouldn't hold his breath.
Johansen had already moved into the kitchen, where Rueben's attacker lay unconscious on the floor. The federal agent's hand covered his mouth as he studied the prone man, but Seth was certain he saw a wry smile peeking out on one side. There was nothing funny about the situation, so maybe it was respect for Rueben's survival instincts. The assailant's hulking size sent a shiver of terror down Seth's spine as he thought about Rueben confronting the man on his own. But as his heart rate calmed, the analytical part of Seth's brain took over, and he analyzed the scene with objective eyes.
It also helped to inject levity into the situation when Tony stepped up beside him and gasped. "Holy shit." The prosecutor looked back into the living room before surveying the bound man on the kitchen floor again.
The assailant's face was cherry red and deformed by blisters. Blood pooled at the back of his head, and Seth's grandmother's cast-iron skillet rested a foot away from the prone man. Seth scanned the rest of the kitchen, noted the tortilla shells on the cookie sheet, and pieced together the sequence of events. Rueben had been frying tortillas in the skillet when the intruder arrived. He disabled him by throwing hot oil in the man's face, then brained him with the skillet. Seth knew he should check the guy for a pulse, but if he put a hand anywhere near this asshole's throat, he was likely to squeeze the life out of him, if any remained. "Is he…" Seth let the unfinished question float out there.
"He's alive," Johansen said, then grimaced. "Though he will probably regret it when he's conscious again. Your boyfriend really did a number on him." He didn't stifle his respect, and Tony grunted in agreement. "An ambulance and additional backup are on the way," Johansen said, switching gears. "We have to assume this is Odell's partner. So where is Quinton Carson?"
"Dead or injured somewhere," Seth said. "The marshals are certain they hit Quinton in the abdomen before he escaped." They'd alerted all the hospitals in a hundred-mile radius, though a person wasn't likely to survive an injury like that to make it a quarter of the way. They couldn't afford any more missteps with assumptions, though. "Is there any ID on him?"
"None," Johansen said.
The injured man groaned as if coming around. Seth shifted over and kneeled down to be in the man's line of sight should he open his eyes. "Who are you?" The man's eyelashes fluttered but didn't open.
A flurry of activity happened all at once as the ambulance and their backup arrived simultaneously. Johansen photographed the assailant's original condition before he authorized new accessories. Handcuffs and zip ties replaced Rueben's crude bindings on his hands and feet. The latter went into evidence bags as the EMTs, luckily not his sister, wheeled the injured man out on a gurney with his police escort in tow. Seth shifted his gaze to Rueben as the short procession passed. The lips he loved so much curled into a snarl, and his man looked like he was about five seconds away from kicking that gurney over. Sensing Seth's attention, Rueben looked at him and offered his most innocent smile.
"You've got your hands full there," Johansen said. He didn't know the half of it.
Seth gave the federal agent his full attention. "I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and—"
Johansen held up a hand to cut him off. "You do, but I'm not the one who needs to hear your confession. I worked by your side long enough during the joint task force to know you are a solid investigator and an even better man, and that's what I will tell anyone who asks." That was a completely different tone from their phone call earlier, but Seth wasn't stupid enough to point it out. The agent cleared his throat as if he found the conversation awkward. "That aside, you cannot be involved in this investigation from now on."
"I understand. I fully recuse myself."
Johansen blew out a breath, and Seth braced himself for the next blow. "And I want to be clear. I don't question your integrity or that of your deputies, but it would look highly suspect if anyone from your department is involved with this investigation going forward. It won't be enough for just you to step aside, Seth. We'll get help from neighboring law enforcement communities and the CBI."
Seth wasn't sure what stung the most—his pride or conscience. The ripple effect from his mistakes had already begun. The press and public would scrutinize the hardworking men and women from his department, and they would likely eviscerate Seth for the things he'd done. "You're absolutely correct."
"What about the investigators on my staff?" Tony asked. "They're completely independent of the sheriff's office."
"How many of them are former deputies or are related to someone who works at the sheriff's department?"
Tony and Seth shared a brief look. "None that I know of," the prosecutor said.
"No one has left my employment since I took office," Seth added, though that was likely to change.
Johansen's brow furrowed as he thought about it. "Prosecuting felons isn't my purview, so I'll leave that decision to you. A higher power may determine otherwise."
"God?" Tony asked.
Johansen snorted. "I was thinking about the state's attorney general, but rumor has it the man thinks he's on par with God."
The color drained out of Tony's face, and Seth expected the prosecutor to turn on him, but Lyndhurst had some surprises up his sleeve. "Look, Seth," he said, "there will be some who call for your resignation, but they'll be a small group." Tony grimaced. "They'll be vocal and loud, but I don't want you to make knee-jerk decisions based on their initial discord. You are the best candidate for sheriff, and I'm confident the voters will agree."
"You mean the lesser of two evils?" Seth asked.
Tony smirked briefly. "Not even close." He extended his hand to Seth, who immediately shook it. "I know we've had some differences during our tenures, but I'm proud to support your reelection, and I plan to be just as vocal as the naysayers."
Tony's encouragement nearly bowled Seth over, but it probably wouldn't take much at this point. He felt as if someone had run him through the wringer over the past several hours, but he only had to look at Rueben to feel revived, even with so much still unresolved. "Can you make sure someone boards up the door and the property is secure when you're finished?" Seth asked Johansen.
"Of course."
He wanted to ask them to keep him updated but knew they wouldn't risk the already tarnished integrity of the investigation. He nodded goodbye to both men and stepped into the living room, where Rueben was giving his statement to a female deputy from a neighboring county. The young officer met Seth's gaze and nodded politely.
"I think that's all the questions I have for now, Mr. Sanchez," she said. "I might have more for you later as the investigation develops."
"That's okay, Deputy Bryerson," Rueben said. "I'm happy to answer anything."
They discussed arrangements for Rueben to sign the official statement once Bryerson typed it up, and then his man stepped into Seth's open arms.
"Let's get out of here." Seth's voice sounded thick and gravelly.
Rueben peered up at him. "Where are we going?"
"To my house," Seth said. "Everything here is evidence, but it shouldn't take them long to process and release the scene." He looked around the cabin for the two people he wanted to thank most. "Where's Cash and Nick?"
"One of the deputies sent them home," Rueben said. "At least I got to hug them before they left."
"I wanted to thank them for coming to your rescue, even if you didn't need it."
Rueben took Seth's hand and tugged him toward the open front door. "I was so relieved to see them. Thank you." A hard shiver racked Rue's body, and Seth stopped on the porch to pull him into a tight hug.
"I'm so fucking sorry, baby."
"You're not responsible for any of this, and no reasonable person will believe otherwise."
Seth had several arguments he could make, but did he really want to spend the first few minutes in his newfound freedom to share them? Hell no. The drive to his home was short but fraught with heavy rains, and he only let go of Rueben's hand when he parked his SUV in the attached garage and killed the engine. Seth gathered Rueben into his arms as soon as they stepped into the house. Their lips met, lingered, and then parted to make way for eager tongues. So many things remained unresolved, but not this, not them. Uncertainty could prowl outside his doors like a vicious beast, but the one thing—person—Seth was sure about was in his arms.
Rueben pulled back from the kiss and said, "Show me your house."
Seth had kept the fishing cabin the same as his grandparents had left it, but his home was an oasis he'd built just for himself. And he was eager as hell to show it to Rueben, and one room held more draw than the others. He took Rueben's hand and led him straight to the bedroom. When Seth switched on the light, he lowered the dimmer to the lowest setting before going to work on Rueben's clothes. The urge to see him stretched out naked on the bed guided Seth's hands to reveal each inch of precious skin. He gathered Rueben against him once more, even though he remained fully dressed.
"You're here, and you're safe," Seth said.
Rueben nuzzled his nose into the open V of Seth's shirt and pressed warm lips there. "You're here and safe too." After another kiss, Rueben eased back and looked at him. "And overdressed."
Seth chuckled and removed his gun belt and set it on the nightstand. He would keep it close until Quinton Carson was located—dead or alive. Rueben took over from there, kissing and touching as he bared Seth to his satisfaction. Their lips met again as they maneuvered to the bed, and Seth positioned himself between Rueben's thighs. He could've lost the man he loved, and nothing celebrated life like joining their bodies together. Seth aimed for tender as he worshiped Rueben's body and worked him open with slick fingers, but the keeper wasn't looking for gentle after his harrowing night. Seth gave Rueben what he wanted, what he begged for, surging inside him until he was balls deep on the first thrust. Seth buried his head in the curve of Rueben's shoulder and neck, then used every fiber of his being to love Rueben, not stopping until they lay in a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs in the center of his bed.
The ceiling fan cooled his heated flesh and drew goose bumps to the surface, but Seth made no move to untangle himself until Rueben shivered. They cleaned up quickly, turned off the lights, and tucked themselves under the covers. Seth lay on his back with Rueben pressed against his side, using Seth's shoulder as a pillow.
"Tour guide and real estate agent are off the tables if you decide to look for a different career," Rueben teased in the dark. "The only thing I've gotten to see in your house is the bedroom ceiling."
For a moment, Seth thought that was a commentary on his chances of reelection until he computed the totality of the statement. There'd be a lot of similar comments made in the coming days, weeks, and probably months, and they wouldn't include "if you decide" in the phrasing. Seth needed to develop thicker skin and fast…but not with Rueben. He was done with any kind of barrier between them. "You think I'm just going to whisk every site-seeker or client into the nearest bedroom?"
Rueben laughed and placed a kiss on his chest. "I guess that was a silly thing to say. I think my brain is still addled from that incident with the guy at the cabin."
"Why? Did he hit you with the skillet first?"
Reuben snorted, then laughed and kept on laughing until his voice went hoarse and the tears came. Seth cradled him safely against his body, whispering words of encouragement and love as Rueben cycled through his emotions.
"I think I know who that guy was," Rueben finally said.
Seth stiffened. "Who? And how?"
Rueben told him about the incidents where Keegan thought he'd seen Brother Cain in town. And that would likely mean Brother Abel was Odell. "I should've said something sooner, but Keegan didn't want me to make a fuss. He said he'd had similar reactions to guys with the same builds or hair color. I tried to follow the man after the town hall meeting, but he got away before I could snap a picture." Rueben sighed. "I went and disfigured his face, making identification harder unless his prints or DNA are in the system. I'm really sorry."
Seth tightened his arms around Rueben. "It's not Keegan's fault or yours. We'll sort this out and move on. There's so much living I want to do with you." And loving.
That sweet sentiment followed him into sleep but couldn't protect him from a montage of vivid dreams where his personal demons devoured everyone Seth loved and left him to face the aftermath alone. He finally gave up trying to sleep around five thirty. He scanned the internet for updates about Quinton Carson's whereabouts as other civilians would do and forced himself to read the things written about him as his constituents would. So far, the opinions ranged from ineptitude to criminal negligence regarding Mick's questionable death and Quinton's escape, but Rueben's name had thus far stayed out of the press. The reprieve wouldn't last long, but they'd enjoy it while they could.
Seth had consumed nearly half a pot of coffee by the time Rueben staggered out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but Seth's shirt. His morning wood jutted out in front of him like a North Star to guide him. Sleepy brown eyes scanned the room until they found Seth on the love seat in the great room at the back of the house. Rueben smiled, rubbed his eyes, then circled slowly to take in his surroundings. When their eyes met again, Rueben looked both impressed and possibly a little intimidated. Seth's house wasn't as big or as fancy as Cash's, but it used the same combination of wood, iron, and stone to elevate his mountainside home from meh to hell yeah. Walls of windows on the rear of the house showed off million-dollar views, but the one in front of Seth was a value beyond estimation and certainly irreplaceable.
Rueben scratched behind his ear and worked his bottom lip between his teeth. "Do you have a side hustle I don't know about? I don't think civil servants get paid enough to afford a house like this."
Seth slowly unfolded from the leather sofa and strolled across the room on bare feet. He cupped Rueben's face, and curious brown eyes searched his gaze. "My mom is a Hart of the Hart's Creek fame."
"Ah, those Harts," Rueben teased, though it was clear he didn't know the history of the area or the significance of the name.
"My great-great-great…" Seth's voice trailed off as he tried to count how many greats he needed to put in front of grandfather. His blood was moving south and his brain struggled to recall the family history lesson. Then he shook his head because it didn't matter. "Edgar Hart was a founding father of this area and a pioneer in too many industries to name. He was an inventor and a gambler from Virginia, who won a piece of Colorado property in a poker game. He struck gold in the creek running through his land and used the money to fund his love of tinkering. Edgar invented several processes that revolutionized coal mining. People thought he was weird, but they also revered him because he had the Midas touch. His ancestors still benefit from his genius through a trust he established. I received this parcel of land and a down payment to build a homestead."
Seth slid his hands inside the shirt Rueben borrowed from him and rested his hands on warm, taut cheeks. Interest sparked in those molten brown eyes. Would Rueben allow a slight detour from story time so he could sink his teeth into that delectable ass? Seth balanced the weight of those firm globes in his hand and watched the spark turn into flames of lust. He leaned forward and breathed Rueben's scent deep into his nose. "I've wanted to see you in my home for so long, and now that I have you here, I need you to make your mark in every single room." Their erections aligned, only separated by Seth's lounge pants, but the connection wasn't enough for him. "Starting here."
His cell phone rang just as Rueben gripped his pajama bottoms. "Ignore it," Rueben growled. He yanked the pants down to mid-thigh so they were flesh to flesh, and Seth drowned out the sound of the intrusion.
Seth's grip on Rueben's ass turned bruising as they thrust and moved together. Frotting on their feet was clumsy and frustrating, so Seth moved them to the couch as fast as the restrictive pants around his thighs permitted. He'd just sat his bare ass down on the cold leather sofa when his phone rang again.
Rueben frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the offensive phone on the coffee table. "It's Agent Johansen," he said.
"I better take it." They wouldn't call him unless the situation was dire, and Seth's first thought went to Quinton Carson's whereabouts. Maybe the marshals were wrong about hitting him with a bullet, and he was as much of a risk as he'd been twelve hours ago. Rueben handed Seth the phone, then curled onto the couch beside him, hissing a little when his ass kissed the leather surface. Despite everything, Seth couldn't help but smile. He accepted the call and said, "Burke."
"Does the name Reginald Ulrich ring a bell?" Johansen said in way of greeting.
The air whooshed from Seth's lungs like someone sucker punched him. It took him a moment to gather himself before he could speak. "The last name Ulrich certainly does. Ryan Ulrich is the primary suspect in my cousin Natalie's unsolved murder, but he's been dead for a while now." He searched his memories for information on Ryan's family from Natalie's case file. "Ryan had a little brother, but I can't recall his name. He was about eight years old when Natalie died but didn't factor into the case much. I was thirteen at the time, so I didn't know him. Why?"
"We scoured the area looking for the vehicle Rueben's assailant drove. We found it, along with Odell's Nissan truck, parked at a vacant cabin two miles from yours. The property is abandoned, and nature has overpowered the gravel driveway, so we missed it last night. We sent drones up at daybreak and found it right away. There was a wallet inside the car with an ID for Reginald Ulrich. Blood was all over the passenger side of the car, confirming it's likely the vehicle used in the ambush." Johansen paused to take a breath, and Seth knew the guy had just gotten started. "When we got a warrant to search the cabin, we found Quinton Carson dead inside. He has two gunshot wounds—one in his abdomen, as the marshals reported, and a fatal one to the head."
"Self-inflicted?" Seth asked.
"It appears so, but Reggie could've killed him and placed the gun in his hand. That's one answer we hope to get from him, but we need your help first."
"Me?" Seth asked.
"He's awake and says he'll only talk to you."
He had to be Ryan's brother. "I don't think that's a good idea," Seth said.
"I agree, but he intends to give a full confession if he can speak to you first. Lyndhurst and I will be there along with federal prosecutor John Beckett."
Seth couldn't imagine what Reggie had to say to him. Well, he could, but he didn't want to listen to the man defend Ryan. And what did his family have to do with the whole damn Salvation Anew mess? "What time do you want me there?"
Reggie Ulrich's room wasn't hard to find, with two CSPD officers standing on either side of the door and Johansen, Lyndhurst, and Beckett loitering in the hallway. The trio shook his hand and tried for somber tones, but they couldn't keep the anticipation of an earth-shattering confession from showing in their eyes. They believed Reggie Ulrich was Brother Cain, the last surviving thread to Salvation Anew. A corroborated confession could put this entire nightmare behind them, but Seth expected Reggie wanted to scrape open his old wounds. After the phone call with Johansen, Rueben told Seth about the things Reggie had said the previous night before Rueben flung the hot oil in his face. Seth couldn't believe Rueben had kept that information from him until he recalled that he'd led his man straight to the bedroom, where dirty talk became their only form of communication.
"Do you have a copy of Reggie's driver's license photo?" Seth asked.
Johansen pulled a piece of paper from a file and handed it to him. Jesus Fucking Christ. Reggie was the guy who sat next to him at the Feisty Bull on the night he confronted Rueben in the stockroom. The man had attempted to make conversation with Seth a few times, but he hadn't been in the mood. Reggie had worn a hat pulled down low on his forehead, but those arctic-blue eyes were unforgettable. According to Rueben, Keegan had described them as dead eyes, and Seth had to agree. He didn't notice any physical resemblance between the man in the photo and Seth's memory of Ryan Ulrich.
He returned the photo to Johansen. "See if Keegan Scott can positively identify him as Brother Cain." Seth repeated what he'd learned about the possible sightings and Keegan's reactions. "Give him a warning, and be patient with the identification. The guy has been through hell and back."
"We'll handle it sensitively and discreetly," Johansen promised. "Ready to do this?"
Absolutely not, but Seth nodded.
The man in the bed was even more unrecognizable than before, with most of his head bandaged. Those frigid eyes locked on Seth and followed him throughout the room. Seth wondered about the legality of the interview since the guy had to be on pain meds, but that wasn't his problem. He knew firsthand how protective doctors were of their patients, but if Reggie agreed to speak to them, who was he to argue?
The room wasn't big enough for all four of them to sit down, so Seth took one chair, and Lyndhurst took the other. Three recording devices appeared from jacket pockets, and each of the men took turns documenting the date, time, and names of those present. Ulrich kept his unnerving gaze on Seth for the duration of introductions, barely acknowledging the other men in the room until Johansen read him his rights.
"I understand and waive my right to an attorney." Ulrich's voice was low and gravelly, but his words rang clear and seemed unfettered by heavy medications. "Before I give a full confession, I want something from Sheriff Burke."
"He's recused himself," Beckett said. "He can't grant—"
Ulrich interrupted the federal prosecutor with an angry wave of his hand, but he never tore his gaze away from Seth's. "This is between us, and it's personal."
"I'm listening," Seth said.
"I beg you to keep looking for Natalie's killer," Reggie said. "I know you're convinced my brother did it, but I know he didn't. Ryan was many things, but a killer wasn't one of them. He died from guilt but not for the reasons you think." Reggie stopped, swallowed hard, and cleared his throat. "Fuck, I'm going to choke to death on this plea before I can make it. You'd be the one begging if I'd had my way last night."
Seth called on decades of training and experience not to take the bait Reggie dangled in front of him. He reminded himself that Rueben was safe and would remain that way.
"Do you need a drink?" Lyndhurst asked.
"Shut the fuck up!" Reggie roared. "I don't want to hear any of you so much as breathe, or this is over. I'm not thirsty."
Seth shot them a warning glance, and the trio seemed to shrink into themselves.
"I'm choking because I've hated you for nearly all my life," Reggie snarled. "I've spent the last few years planning ways to destroy your reputation and life the way your witness statement did to my family. Humiliating you in front of the townsfolk suddenly didn't feel like enough for what you did to my family, and I decided to kill your boyfriend." Reggie raised his hand to his bandaged face. "Guess he won that battle."
"Then why did you decide to talk to me or ask me for a favor?" Seth was ashamed to admit Reggie had caught him off guard and piqued his interest.
"Because everything I've done was to avenge my brother and mother."
"Your mother?" Seth asked.
"Your election as sheriff four years ago stirred up interest in Natalie's death again, and a so-called journalist tracked Mom down to talk about Ry. The son of a bitch hounded her day and night. Then he moved on to coworkers and friends, telling everyone our business. People turned on her or avoided her again. It was like Last Chance Creek all over again. The stress caused a massive stroke she's never recovered from, and she lives in a nursing home. Mom doesn't know me half the time and only asks for Ry. I pretend to be him sometimes to make her happy."
"I am sorry to hear about your mother, and looking back now, I will admit the town wasn't fair to your family."
"How fucking big of you." Reggie's snarl turned into a cough.
"If Ryan didn't kill Natalie, then why did he die of guilt?"
"Because he didn't go after her," Reggie replied. "He hadn't wanted to look like a whipped dog in front of his friends, and he lived to regret it for the rest of his life. Ry told me that he really cared about her. Natalie made him want to be a better person, but he let her down. The guilt ate him alive." Reggie released a tortured whimper that turned into a snarl. "The worst part is that you nearly turned us against him. Ryan died thinking his mother and brother didn't believe him, and I fucking hate you for that. You started this mess, and now you're going to fix it."
"The only thing I ever claimed to see was Natalie getting in your brother's truck. Ryan admitted I was right. Where do you get off blaming me?"
"Because you claim you wanted justice for Natalie, but you haven't done a damn thing since taking office to find it," Reggie roared. "You don't consider her death unsolved because you're convinced her killer is dead. If you find the real murderer, you'll clear my brother's name. Maybe that will ease my mama's soul, and she'll let go instead of clinging to a miserable existence."
Seth's brain whirled from everything Reggie said. Had they been wrong all these years? Seth had already handed the case to Shayne Abbott with the CBI, so agreeing to Reggie's terms was the easiest thing he'd done in weeks. "You have my word." Seth stood to leave the room but didn't take one step before Reggie halted his escape.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" The question sounded like an angry snarl from a wounded animal, and Seth knew Reggie's pain came from someplace deeper than the injuries Rueben had inflicted on him.
"Sheriff Burke has recused himself from this investigation and any others connected to Salvation Anew," Agent Johansen reminded him.
Reggie slowly turned his head and fixed the FBI agent with an icy glare. "I will answer your questions, but I want Burke present to hear them." He returned his dead eyes to Seth. "Your family put mine through hell, so the least you can do is sit there and listen to what you did to us."
Seth wanted to remind Reggie that he'd been a thirteen-year-old kid, and he hadn't lied or exaggerated his story. Seth had not engaged in a private or public war against the Ulrichs. But had the Harts used their founding family status to pressure the citizens of Hart's Creek and Last Chance Creek to turn on Reggie's family? And what about him? Reggie's accusation hadn't been wrong. He'd made no effort to solve Natalie's case during his tenure as sheriff. The excuses he'd given to Assistant Director Amanda Hines from the CBI were true, but he should've reached out to them to ask for help.
He sat back down and gestured for Reggie to continue. The man started talking with little prompting, so none of the investigators interrupted him. Seth knew they were recording the confession and taking copious notes to double back once Reggie wound down. The injured man detailed the humiliation and shame heaped upon the single mom and her two kids. Their father, a deadbeat alcoholic, according to Reggie, had died and left them nearly penniless. The only thing he'd left behind was the damn truck Ryan loved to drive so much. Rhonda, his mother, worked full-time at the grocery store and cleaned houses on the side to make ends meet.
"Mom lost all her cleaning jobs once Ryan's name got floated out there as Natalie's killer. No one wanted her in their homes because what kind of person raised a monster?" Reggie snarled. "I got bullied and beaten up on the playground at school. Taunted mercilessly until I tried to take my life to escape the pain. That's when my mom decided we had to leave. We fled in the middle of the night and didn't look back. We drove as far as the tank of gas would get us and tried our best to reestablish ourselves." Reggie's voice broke, and Seth sympathized for the hell he'd lived through. He would not forgive Reggie for the atrocities he committed, but Seth at least understood how someone could get pushed too far. "And the move worked until Ryan died of an overdose. Rumors and speculation started, and all it took was for one journalist to connect some dots and ruin the home we'd made."
And they'd run again, settling down and building a life until someone else investigated Natalie's death. "About every five years, someone came along and poked the hornet's nest," Reggie said. "Resentment bubbled beneath the surface, but I thought I had a good handle on it until…." His voice trailed off, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Do you need something?" Lyndhurst asked. "Water?"
"Shut the fuck up!" Reggie's roar triggered a coughing fit and set off some monitors, but he calmed the beeping and his coughing down after a few moments. "Resentment became bone-deep hatred after my mama had the massive stroke four years ago. I had to put her in a state-run nursing facility because I couldn't afford better. She doesn't get to plant flowers and grow vegetables anymore. Mama can't talk right or communicate very well. She can't even wipe her own ass. The woman has worked her ass off for her entire life and loved her sons with everything she had. What thanks does my mama get? She's imprisoned by her own mind and body. I couldn't turn back the clock and fix anything for her, but I could get even for the humiliation, shame, and misery we suffered all because your family decided Ryan killed their little princess."
Reggie's snide tone set Seth on edge. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he clenched his fists and jaw to keep from striking an injured man or saying something that would risk the confession.
"Don't like that, do you?" Reggie asked. "Well, too fucking bad. You're going to sit there and hear me out."
And he did just that as Reggie detailed stumbling across one of Mick Carson's interviews during an internet search two years ago. He wanted to find out what was going on in Last Chance Creek and see if there were any updates on Natalie's case. Something about Carson's impassioned speech triggered a deep recognition and made Reggie feel seen for the first time in maybe his entire life.
"The fact that we both hated your guts was just a bonus," Reggie said.
His eyes glazed over as he talked about joining Salvation Anew and finding a deeper purpose. There were things Mick made him do that turned Seth's stomach and made him want to puke as Reggie went into grotesque detail. Reggie and Quinton carried out Mick's orders, and Odell was the enforcer when it didn't happen. Keegan had been their favorite target for abuse and punishment, and Seth marveled again at how far the younger man's recovery had come. At least with this confession, Keegan wouldn't have to identify Reggie as a member of the cult.
Reggie and Odell had escaped the compound with enough cash to tide them over for a while, but they ended up bunking with Odell's mom. He was adamant the older woman didn't know what they'd been up to and extracted a promise from the lawmen that she would escape any type of prosecution. Reggie also wanted assurances she would escape public persecution, and Seth believed they'd do their best to shelter the woman as much as they could.
"We knew Mick would betray Quinton," Reggie said. "That's what weak people like him do. They never accept responsibility for their actions. Odell and I decided the son of a bitch wouldn't get away with it, so we hatched a plan and played the long game. Odell got a job at the jail because it was only a matter of time before the Carsons came back here for court. He tampered with Lawson's tire a few times so it wouldn't be so obvious when I shoved a nail in it and made him late for his shift. I knew all about Mick's peanut allergy, so Odell ground the nuts into a fine powder and slipped it into his food without tipping off the kitchen staff." They didn't have security cameras in the kitchen area because it was off-limits to the inmates. Their feed only covered the common areas and hallways. "Odell took home one of the walkie-talkies so he could listen in on the activity at the jail. We knew when the Marshals arrived and when they left. I think you know the rest."
"Why don't you tell us just to make sure," Johansen said.
"Odell and I cut down a tree to block the road and ambushed the transport vehicle. We didn't intend to kill the marshals, but they opened fire on us first. I wanted to take Quinton to the hospital for treatment, but he said prison was just a different kind of death and begged me for a gun. I didn't shoot him," Reggie stated firmly. "I'll go down for the other things, but I did not kill my friend."
"We believe you," Johansen said, "and I'm sure forensics will prove it."
Reggie closed his eyes and said, "I heard him pull the trigger before I got too far from the cabin." He took a deep breath and met Seth's gaze. "With my friends dead, there was nothing left to do than complete my revenge."
"How'd you know about my cabin, and how did you know to find Rueben there?"
The visible part of Reggie's mouth stretched into an evil grin. "The cabin is a matter of public record, and I saw you with your boy toy earlier that day when I drove up to our hideout."
Seth recalled the sound of an approaching vehicle when they'd been on the porch. They'd gone inside before someone drove past, but Reggie would've recognized their vehicles if he'd done a minimum amount of research. But it was over. Reggie would get transferred to the state prison's infirmary to await his hearing and sentencing, and the only thing Seth had to worry about was making his own confession to his constituents. He stood up and looked into Reggie's cold eyes.
"I am sorry for what happened to you and your mother, and I will keep an open mind about your brother until the evidence says otherwise." And he meant it. Seth had let his hatred of Ryan Ulrich fester for so long, and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd be in a similar position as Reggie if Seth's circumstance and family dynamics had been different. "I will keep my word about the investigation. If I can clear Ryan's name and bring your mother peace, I'll do it."
Reggie held his regard for several long moments before he nodded. With that, Seth turned and left the room. Lyndhurst, Beckett, and Johansen would hold a press conference later to assure the public of their safety. Seth doubted they'd go into great detail until they could corroborate as many of the things Reggie said as possible. Seth expected them to hold a lengthier press conference soon, but he would not stand at the podium for any of them since he recused himself from the case. His absence would get noted, commented on, and speculated about, but he couldn't help that. Seth would hold his own press conference once he decided what to say and when to say it.
The sun was shining when he walked out of the hospital, something he took as a good sign. Seth wasn't foolish enough to believe his personal rainstorms and thunderclouds had taken a permanent hiatus, but he anticipated more sunnier days than darker ones ahead. The clock on his dash said it was nearly one o'clock, and he couldn't believe he'd been in Reggie's hospital room for so long. Seth thought about the staples in his refrigerator and pantry, then worried Rueben had starved to death. He'd left his guy at his house without transportation or even a cell phone since they left his belongings at the cabin until the scene was cleared.
Seth shifted into Drive and headed home. They'd figure out what to eat once he got there, and maybe finish what they'd started in the great room when Rueben came to him wearing nothing but Seth's shirt. He let those images multiply until they became a mixture of reality and fantasy. Seth was primed and ready to act each of them out until he got within view shot of his home and saw the number of vehicles in the driveway. Rueben's truck was among them, so someone had driven it to him. Both Kerry and Shawna's vehicles were there, so he suspected one of them had delivered it to his house.
Seth ran through a few strategies on how he could encourage them to leave and decided on the direct route of telling them to get out. He even practiced a few different tones as he traveled the short distance from his driveway to the front door. But once inside, the smell of delicious food and the sound of cheerful chatter changed his mind. Or maybe it was seeing the man he loved standing at the kitchen island, holding court like the king of the castle and the keeper of Seth's heart. Kerry, Shawna, Keegan, and Sven held on to his every word as he wowed them with something he assembled and put in a baking dish. None of them noticed Seth had entered, which gave him a moment to take it all in. He'd built this house after his breakup with Oliver because the home they'd once shared felt like a box of memories that never let him heal. Everywhere he turned was a reminder of what Seth had viewed as Oliver's rejection. He knew better now and recognized that they were just too different to make it work, but back then, Seth needed a fresh start. Building the house had helped, but the structure had never felt like his home until this very moment. Seth dropped his keys in the little dish on the foyer table his mother picked out on one of her many antique hunts. Boy, would his parents get the surprise of their lives when they returned from their cruise and met Rueben. They were going to love him.
Rueben must've sensed his regard because their gazes collided over the expanse of the house. His man lit up brighter than fireworks on the Fourth as he reached for a towel to wipe his hands. They started moving toward each other at the same time, meeting in the middle, where Seth caught Rueben in a tight hug.
"I hope you don't mind the company." Rueben's voice was muffled against his chest, but Seth still heard him over his pounding heart.
"This is your home too," Seth said. He wanted to tell Rueben about the epiphany he had when he walked through the door but would wait until they were alone and preferably naked.
Rueben looked up at him with emotions swirling in his eyes. "I'm so glad you said that because Keegan and Kerry showed up here with my truck and nearly all my possessions from the ranch after Cash verified my vehicle wasn't part of the evidence in the investigation. I told them they were a bit presumptuous, and they laughed at me and invited the other two yahoos over."
Seth was very curious about how Keegan and Kerry ended up as a dynamic duo, but those questions could wait. The oven timer went off, and a chorus of cheers sounded in the kitchen. Shawna slipped around the island, donned some mitts, and removed a dish of bubbling goodness from the oven. "What is that, and how did you pull it together with the ingredients I had on hand?"
Rueben's condescending snort expressed his opinion of the state of Seth's kitchen staples. "It's the enchiladas I wanted to make for you last night. Since Keegan and Kerry wanted to be so helpful, I sent them to the store with a list of ingredients."
"Smells amazing," Seth said. "I'm not sure I want to share."
"I have enough to make another pan, so there will be plenty to go around and have for leftovers." Rueben would sing a different tune once he saw how much Kerry could put away. When his man turned to head back to the kitchen, Seth tugged him back. "What?"
"I love you."
"You're as cheesy as my enchiladas," Rueben said. "I love you too."
"I'm not waiting for you guys to suck face before I dig in," Kerry said.
Seth rolled his eyes and tugged Rueben into the kitchen, where he insisted the chef get to serve himself first. No one dared to protest and risk getting tossed out before they sampled the food. Rueben placed an enchilada on a plate, then added beans and rice. He handed it to Seth instead of keeping it for himself.
"We've been snacking all afternoon, but I bet you're starving."
Seth took his first bite while standing up at the counter. He moaned his appreciation before Kerry shoved him out of the way. To his surprise, his cousin gestured for Keegan to go in front of him.
"We'll need to keep our eye on those two," Seth whispered to Rueben.
"We won't have time because I plan to keep you so very busy," Rueben whispered back. "So many rooms to leave a mark on, and I have a plan for every one of them."
"You people need to eat and get the hell out," Seth said.
Their guests laughed, thinking Seth was joking. But he wasn't and proved it the second they set their forks down.