One Man's Family. Brenda Harlen

      One Man’s Family

      Brenda Harlen

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Special thanks and acknowledgment

       are given to Brenda Harlen for her contribution to the LOGAN’S LEGACY REVISITED miniseries.

      To my Dad—

       because every little girl needs a hero, and because you’ll always be mine. I love you.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Coming Next Month

      Prologue

      “In the matter of the State of Oregon versus Joseph Elonzo Juarez…”

      Alicia held her breath, straining to hear the words over the pounding of her heart. The jury had been deliberating less than twenty minutes, and she couldn’t help but feel reassured by the quick decision. Clearly the jurors had seen beyond the flimsy and circumstantial evidence and knew that her brother hadn’t committed any crime.

      “…we find the defendant…”

      Her grip tightened on the railing in front of her, her short fingernails biting into the lacquered wood, her attention fixed on the jury fore person.

      This was it. Finally. The end of a seemingly endless four-day trial, and the beginning of a return to normalcy for her family.

      “…guilty.”

      She couldn’t hold back her shocked gasp as her gaze flew across the courtroom to where her brother was standing beside his attorney at the defendant’s table.

      Joe’s shoulders were slumped with the weight of the world upon them, but he looked more resigned than surprised by the announcement. She, on the other hand, had to fight the urge to yell at him, to scream at the judge and rail at the jury for this blatant miscarriage of justice. Except that nothing she could say or do would make a difference now.

      She felt a gentle tug on her sleeve and looked down into the wide, trusting eyes of her eight-year-old niece.

      “Is Daddy coming home now?” Lia asked.

      Before Alicia could say anything, Joe Jr. responded with all the disdain a twelve-year-old boy could muster for his little sister. “He’s not ever coming home, dummy. ‘Guilty’ means he stays in jail.”

      Alicia shot her nephew a warning glare over the top of Lia’s head before kneeling beside her niece. The little girl’s eyes were filled with tears and confusion. Alicia knew just how she felt, but she couldn’t give in to the emotions that battled inside her. She was the only one these children had to look out for them right now.

      “But he didn’t do it.” Lia’s bottom lip quivered as she spoke.

      “I know, honey,” she said, trusting with all of her heart that it was true. “The jury just made a mistake.”

      “Tell them,” Lia pleaded. “Tell them they were wrong, Aunt Alicia.”

      The child’s fervent pleading broke her heart, but it was too late to tell the jurors anything. Having been thanked and dismissed by the judge, they were already filing out of the courtroom.

      And it wasn’t Alicia’s job to convince them of Joe’s innocence. That was something he should have done. But her brother had chosen not to take the stand, had refused—for reasons he didn’t even try to explain and that she couldn’t begin to imagine—to defend himself.

      “Tell them,” Lia said again.

      Alicia only wished it were that easy.

      She would do anything for these children, give them anything. But what they needed most of all was their father, and his fate had been sealed by the jury’s announcement.

      Or had it?

      Chapter One

      Scott Logan had things on his mind and a crick in his neck, both courtesy of having spent the better part of three days hunkered down in the front seat of an aging Ford Escort on an insurance fraud investigation. Despite the mental preoccupation and physical discomfort, he felt good about the successful completion of another assignment and satisfied that he’d done his job well.

      His former colleagues couldn’t understand why he’d walked away from the police force for this kind of work, and Scott didn’t know how to explain that the job that had once meant everything to him had meant nothing after Freddie was killed.

      His family, who had never comprehended his wanting to be a cop in the first place, understood his new job even less. Not that they criticized his choices so much as they were clearly baffled by them. In a family comprised of mostly white-collar professionals, Scott had always been the odd man out.

      You can do anything you want to do was Lawrence Logan’s favorite mantra, and one which he repeated at every opportunity to each of his four sons. It was the kind of positive and nurturing approach he’d advocated in the self-help books that had brought him so much fame and fortune. His encouragement and support were genuine, his pride in his sons’accomplishments sincere.

      He’d flown to NewYork to help LJ settle into his new apartment when his eldest son had accepted a position with a prestigious public relations firm, had been sitting in the front row when Ryan graduated with his architectural degree, and cried tears of joy when Jake was accepted to medical school. But when Scott announced his intention to go to the police academy, the renowned psychologist had just shaken his head—as he’d done frequently over the thirty years of his youngest son’s life.

      Scott hadn’t been deterred by his father’s lack of support because there had been no other options for him. He’d wanted only to be a cop—to uphold the laws, put the bad guys in jail and help make the world a safer place. Of course, when his partner was killed—gunned down in pursuit of an armed suspect who was later acquitted on a technicality—Scott’s faith in the system was shaken.

      He banished these disquieting memories to the back of his mind as he pushed open the door to Darlene’s Diner. The bell tinkled, announcing his arrival, and Darlene herself glanced up from the counter she’d been wiping down to greet him with a smile.

      “Morning, stranger.”

      “How are you, Darlene?”

      “Hanging in,” she told him. “How about you?”

      “Desperately needing my daily dose of caffeine.”

      She was already reaching for a large foam cup. “You haven’t been in the last few days.”

      “Assignment,” he said simply.

      She glanced up at him again as she filled the cup. “You been sleeping in your car again? You look like hell.”

      “I haven’t been getting much sleep,” he admitted. “Regardless of where I spend my nights.”

      “You need a good woman, sugar. A reason to go home at night.” She set the coffeepot back on the element and winked