J.M.J.

Author's note: Greetings! At long last, the fourth part of White Roses is here! Okay, it's only been three months, but it feels a lot longer to me. It also feels a lot longer to the Hardys, since in this universe, a little over a year has passed since The Thirteenth Day. I'm picturing the story taking place in June, but as long as you realize it's summer, that's the only thing that matters. Since this is part of a series, it is, of course, helpful if you've read the first three books in the series before this one. It's not absolutely necessary; I'll explain things as we go along and you're smart, so you should be able to catch on to what's happening. If you have any questions, you can always ask. You will get some spoilers for the other stories if you read this one first, though, just to warn you.

Speaking of warnings, I do want to warn you that I tend to get philosophical and even theological sometimes in my stories. There is also frequently violence in my stories, although it's not graphic. If that makes you uncomfortable, I totally understand. The only thing I don't understand is being rude or nasty about it in a review when you're totally free to not read the story or to skip things that you don't like, so please don't do that. Of course, if you have constructive, civil criticism (or if you're enjoying the story as I hope you will!), I'm always ready and willing to hear it!

Enough ado. Enjoy the story and God bless!

White Roses

Part IV

Decades of Deception

Chapter I

It wasn't even dawn yet and Laura Hardy was already up, putting the last few things in order before she and her husband, Fenton, left for a second honeymoon that they had been planning for months. They had been married for twenty-two years now, but they hadn't yet managed to get away, just the two of them, for a second honeymoon, apart from a few weekends here and there. Fenton job as a private detective kept him busy. They were long overdue for some relaxation, and they both sorely needed it.

Laura glanced in the mirror of her dressing table. She had the lamp sitting there on, and in its light, she could see Fenton still asleep. He seemed peaceful enough, which Laura was grateful for. In the last year, he'd made slow but steady progress in being able to sleep the night through without a nightmare.

He had every right to a few nightmares. A little over a year ago, the Hardys' younger son, Joe, had been shot while Fenton had been right there. Joe had survived, but it had been a close call, especially since they were miles out of town and cell reception. If it had just been the two of them, Joe almost certainly wouldn't have survived. Fortunately, Joe's girlfriend, Iola Morton, had been present as well. Although she could no longer walk from an earlier accident, she had managed to ride a horse to get help.

It made Laura sick to think of the whole incident. It had been one of the worst days of her life just knowing what had happened and seeing her baby so pale and nearly lifeless in the hospital. She couldn't even imagine what it must have been—and still be—for Fenton, having actually been there.

She tried to put it out of her mind and go back to her last bit of packing, but then she heard a restless moan from the bed. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Fenton had begun to toss and turn. Laura hurried to his side just as he jolted himself awake with a cry of "Joe!" and sat up.

Laura put her arms around his shoulders. "Shh. Shh. It's okay. Joe's all right. He's safe and sound. It's just a dream."

It took a moment for Fenton to recover and realize that he was safely in bed with his wife's arms wrapped around him. He clasped one of her hands with his and took a deep breath as he closed his eyes again.

"It's okay," Laura repeated.

Fenton nodded. "I know." He noticed that Laura was dressed. "Is it time to get up?"

"It's early, but I had a few last things to do," Laura told him.

"Then I might as well get up, too. I'm not going to get back to sleep now." Fenton started to get up, but then he let out a shuddering breath and sank back down on the bed. "I can still see it, Laura. What if…"

"It doesn't matter," Laura said firmly. "What ifs don't matter. They're not real, and it doesn't do any good to worry about them. Joe is safe and sound and that's all that matters."

Fenton scoffed softly. "No thanks to me." He looked away so that Laura couldn't see the tears forming in his eyes.

"Fenton, you saved his life," Laura told him. "If you hadn't been there, he would have died."

"If I hadn't been there, he probably wouldn't have been shot. If I hadn't let him go, he definitely wouldn't have been."

"I had far more to do with him being there than you did."

"I shouldn't have encouraged the boys in becoming detectives." Fenton swallowed hard. "Anything that happens to them is on me."

Laura shook her head. "Aren't you the one who's always said that even if Frank and Joe didn't go looking for trouble, trouble would find them anyway? I don't like to think about it, but it's true. You can't blame yourself for it, and you can't pretend that anything you do will keep them safe all the time. All we can do is keep on trying to teach the boys to make wise choices."

"I know, I know. You can be as logical as you want—I'll join you in a few hours—but it…it was so vivid. It was like reliving it." Fenton put his hands over his face and then chuckled humorlessly. "You didn't bargain on being stuck with a basket case when you married me, did you?"

"You're a long way from being a basket case," Laura reassured him. "No parent would be able to just shake something like that off, and to be honest, I'd be disappointed in you if you could. You're doing just fine."

"Yeah." Fenton shook his head slightly. "I'm just glad Joe has apparently managed to shake it off, like you say. He seems to have gotten though it the best of anyone. Do you think he's really as okay as he seems?"

"I don't know. He's more introspective at times than he used to be, but I don't see anything to worry about there. He doesn't talk about what happened much, but that's only natural, and he also doesn't seem to mind when someone else brings it up. He's never mentioned having a single nightmare or flashback, and I've never noticed anything unusual or concerning. I think he's okay."

"Well, I'm glad about that, at least," Fenton said. He looked at the digital clock next to the bed. It was a little past five-thirty. "We'd better get up or you won't have time to finish your last-minute packing." Laura started to get up, but Fenton stopped her by saying, "And Laura?"

"What?"

"I love you."

Laura leaned over and kissed him. "I love you, too."

HBHBHBHBHB

It was nearly eight o'clock before nineteen-year-old Joe came thundering down the stairs and burst into the dining room where his parents and twenty-year-old brother, Frank, were finishing breakfast.

"Whew!" the blond boy said as he plopped himself into an empty chair. "I thought I'd missed it for sure."

"Your dad and I aren't leaving for another hour," Laura told him. "It doesn't take all day to drive to New York."

"Oh, I'm glad I didn't miss you and Dad leaving, but I meant breakfast," Joe replied with a grin that meant he was at least half-joking.

"Ha, ha, ha," Laura pretended to laugh. "Just for that, you can fry your own eggs."

Joe snapped his fingers. "There I go with my big mouth again." He got up and cracked a couple of eggs into the still-hot frying pan.

Frank rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. "Some son, isn't he? He probably forgot you two were leaving."

"Hey! I've got a great memory. I wouldn't be a first-rate detective if I didn't," Joe defended himself.

Fenton cleared his throat. "I know you boys are just teasing each other, but there are a few more important things to talk about. Just because I'm taking a vacation from work doesn't mean you boys are. Sam's going to have a lot for you to do while I'm gone, so no slacking off."

Sam Radley was Fenton's partner in his detective agency. Frank and Joe had practically begged to work internships there over the summer while they were on break from college, and Fenton had reluctantly agreed, especially when Laura had gone to bat for the boys. Probably the most convincing argument was when Laura pointed out that having the boys work with Fenton rather than on their own, as they undoubtedly would have done anyway, would allow him a little more room to keep them out of danger.

"Of course, Dad; we weren't planning on it," Frank said. "At least, I wasn't planning on it, and Joe probably wasn't, considering Iola's still out of town."

Joe shot him a playful glare. "I wouldn't have in any case. We'll be able to handle any big mysteries that come up while you're gone, Dad. Don't worry."

"I'll try not to," Fenton replied, trying not to sound as serious as the words really were.

"And if you want me not to worry about you, you're both going to have to promise to eat decently while we're away," Laura said. "We're going to be gone for two weeks, and your aunt Gertrude is going to be gone for most of that, so you'll have to cook for yourselves. I don't want to come home and find you've eaten nothing but pizza for every meal." Fenton's sister, Gertrude, lived with the family, but she was away visiting other relatives at the moment.

"Right," Joe agreed. "I'll make a note of it to add a few cheeseburgers and sundaes to make it a real balanced diet."

"I didn't sign up to force-feed vegetables to a nineteen-year-old, so he's going to have to figure out the problem with that one on his own," Frank said. "I'm sure we can figure out some cooking arrangements. Uh, one or two meals of pizza are okay, though, right? We already promised to meet the gang for pizza tonight."

"Technically, they're adults, Laura, so they can make their own decisions on what they eat while we're gone," Fenton said. A little of his somber mood was lifting with the banter between the boys.

Laura put her hands on her hips in mock indignation. "You're not helping the situation at all. Whose side are you on?"

"Somebody's got to be on pizza's side," Fenton managed to joke.

"Seriously, though, Mom, Dad, don't worry," Frank said. "Joe and I have managed to take care of ourselves at college without missing any obligations and without malnourishing ourselves. We'll be fine."

HBHBHBHBHB

"Hey, honey, have you seen my…" Sam Radley started to say through a mouth full of toothpaste. Sam had slept in late that morning and was scrambling to get to the office by nine.

His wife, Ethel, appeared at the bathroom door and held up a pair of shoes as Sam was asking the question. "These?"

Sam spit the toothpaste out and rinsed his mouth. "Yeah. I've been looking all over for them. Where did you find them?"

"Well, apparently, when you came stumbling in half-asleep at two last night, you took them off on the front porch," Ethel explained. "You're lucky it didn't rain. I appreciate you not wanting to track up the house, but then again, since it didn't rain, there wasn't much chance of that, was there? Oh, they weren't the only thing you left on the porch last night. That box is on the counter."

"What box?" Sam asked, debating whether he should take the time to shave. He decided against it.

"There was a box next to your shoes. Since no delivery trucks would have come by in the middle of the night, I assumed you had brought it home with you and absent-mindedly left it there."

"Well, I didn't. I wasn't that tired that I'd completely forget that."

Sam and Ethel instantly became much more serious. In Sam's line of work, mysterious packages left on the front porch, as often as not, meant trouble.

"Are the kids still in the kitchen eating breakfast?" Sam asked.

Ethel nodded. "Should I take them outside?"

"No, no need to scare them. I'll take the box outside. Besides, if it does blow up or something, it would be better if it did that outside."

"Be careful," Ethel said.

Sam went into the kitchen and spotted the box on the counter. It was harmless-looking enough, just a cardboard box about nine by five inches and six inches tall. It was taped shut but there was no label. Fortunately, none of the kids were paying any attention to it. The Radleys had four, ranging in age from five years old to fourteen.

Casually, Sam picked the box up and put it under his arm. Then he went outside. He took it well away from the house and examined it.

No sound came from it and it didn't seem unusually heavy. In fact, it was rather light for its size. It was taped with ordinary clear packing tape. Sam didn't see anything about it to raise any red flags, so he carefully slit the tape and opened the flaps.

There were only two things inside. One was a thick envelope with Sam's name written on the front. It was the other one that set his pulse to pounding: a single black rose.