Page 52 of Logan’s Way

Miguel grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The diner was on Main Street, visible from where Angus parked the truck three blocks away. Derek Walsh stood two blocks down on the opposite side—mid-thirties, average build, wearing a jacket that looked too thin for the January cold. He wasn’t watching the diner constantly or making his presence theatrical. Just standing. Waiting. Occasionally glancing at the building. Making sure Lena knew he was there.

“That's him,” Miguel confirmed. “Been there about forty minutes. Hasn't approached, hasn't violated the order. Far enough to be compliant. Close enough that she can see him from the window.”

Angus watched Derek’s body language. Relaxed. Patient. Confident. The stance of someone who knew the law was on his side as long as he didn’t make specific mistakes. Someone who understood that terrorizing a person didn’t require violence or threats—just persistent, unavoidable presence.

“He’s not going to stop,” Angus said quietly.

“I know. But what can we do? We can’t arrest him for standing on a public sidewalk. We can’t even ask him to leave unless he violates the order.” Miguel’s frustration was building. “This is exactly the kind of situation where the law protects the wrong person. Derek knows it. His lawyer knows it. And Lena pays the price.”

Angus thought about Logan. About the pattern he’d documented—predators removed when the law couldn’t act enough. About intervention that happened outside legal channels because those channels moved too slowly or couldn’t move at all.

If Logan were here, Derek Walsh wouldn’t be standing across from that diner—wouldn’t be terrorizing Lena Torres, wouldn’t be testing the boundaries and building toward escalation.

He’d be gone. Not arrested. Not prosecuted through proper channels. Just … gone. Relocated or convinced or removed through methods that didn’t require warrants or evidence or the slow machinery of justice.

And Lena would be safe. Not because the system had protected her, but because someone had operated outside the system to accomplish what the system couldn’t.

The thought disturbed Angus far less than it should have. Not because he’d stopped believing in legal boundaries—he still trusted that justice required them—but because watching Derek Walsh stand there, knowing exactly what he was doing and being unable to stop it through proper procedure, Angus understood viscerally why Logan’s way existed.

This was exactly the kind of moment that created men like Logan.

When the system worked correctly but insufficiently. When following procedure meant watching someone suffer. When legal limitations protected predators more effectively than they protected victims.

Men like Logan looked at moments like this and decided the law’s failure justified operating outside it. They decided that outcomes mattered more than methods, that saving one person was worth violating principles designed to protect everyone.

And standing here, watching Derek terrorize Lena while remaining technically compliant, Angus couldn’t entirely disagree with that logic. He could see the appeal of just making this problem disappear through means that didn’t require building cases, filing paperwork, or waiting for escalation to become criminal.

“We should document this,” Miguel said, pulling out his phone. “Add it to the file. Show a pattern of behavior, even if individual incidents aren’t chargeable.”

Angus nodded, but documentation felt inadequate. It felt like activity that made them feel useful while accomplishing nothing. The file would grow thicker. The pattern would become more obvious. And Derek would continue standing across from that diner until he decided it was time to escalate into something the law could finally act on⁠—

by which point the harm would already be done.

Angus’s phone rang. Not Lena. The county supervisor—Carol Henderson, the administrative head who’d apparently been informed that Angus was at the station despite still being on official leave.

He answered. “Sheriff Reid.”

“Angus, it’s Carol. I heard you were in the office this morning. Are you officially returning to duty?”

“Not yet. Just consulting on a case.”

“Consulting.” Her tone suggested skepticism. “Miguel mentioned you’re helping with a domestic situation. I need to be clear about something—if you’re on leave, you can’t be involved in active cases. There are liability concerns, union rules, and insurance coverage. If something goes wrong while you’re advising without official status, it creates exposure for the entire department.”

“I understand.”

“I’m not sure you do. I just received a call from Derek Walsh’s attorney. He’s building a harassment case, claiming we’re targeting his client because his ex-girlfriend has connections to law enforcement. If you get involved while on leave, that narrative only gets stronger. We need to handle this by the book.”

“We are handling it by the book. That’s the problem.”

“The problem,” Carol said carefully, “is that you’re stepping into an active investigation without authorization. I respect what you’re trying to do, but I need you to step back. Let Miguel handle it. Come back when you’re officially off leave, and we’ll address any ongoing concerns then.”

The message was clear: stop now or face consequences that would limit his ability to help anyone.

Angus ended the call and looked at Miguel. “Carol wants me to step back.”