J.M.J.

Author's note: Greetings! So, here, at long last, is part seven of the White Roses series. I apologize for taking so long between parts, but I wanted to have this one completely written before posting any of it. It's a good thing I did, too. I had a feeling I would want to make some substantial changes to the earlier chapters if I let myself have the chance, and that's exactly what happened.

As with the earlier stories in this series, this one may have some themes and events that might be disturbing for some readers. I won't say exactly what for the sake of spoilers, but if you want the details before you read, you can send me a PM. Just to give you a general idea, I did consider rating this story an M. I ultimately decided that that's not warranted, but it is definitely a very strong T.

I hope you enjoy the story! As I said, it's completely done (apart from some more editing in the later chapters), and so chapters will post every two or three days. God bless!

White Roses

Part 7

Fallen Angel

Chapter I

"This is the life," Joe Hardy declared, stretching out on the sand under the hot California sun. He sighed contentedly. "I'll never know why I didn't move out here sooner."

"Me, neither, man," agreed Shaun Stane. He was standing up, gripping his surfboard and looking out over the water. "I don't know why anyone would want to live anywhere else."

"The obscene cost of living might be one reason," muttered Phil Cohen, who was sitting under the shade of a beach umbrella and reading.

Shaun shook his head slowly. "Dude, you are totally missing the point. It costs a lot to live here because it's the best place on planet Earth."

Phil looked at him over the top of his book and his eyes clearly said that he was not impressed. "Yeah, the high crime rate, pollution, smog, ridiculous traffic, half your paycheck going to taxes…It's paradise on earth."

"If you hate it that much, you can always go back to Baymont or Bridgeport or whatever," Shaun said.

"Bayport, and one of these days, I'm probably going to do just that." Phil settled in to try to read some more.

"Ah, come on, Phil, live a little," Joe told him. "You're only twenty-two once in your life."

Phil didn't reply. Joe and Shaun just looked at one another and shrugged.

"Hey, Joe, there's some real nugs out there. What say we show those kooks out there how to surf?" Shaun said.

"Rad," Joe replied. "Let's do it."

He couldn't help glancing at the annoyed look on Phil's face. He couldn't entirely blame him. The beach scene had never been Phil's thing, and considering how often Joe and Shaun dragged him out there and how much teasing he got for always bringing a book or two, he had a pretty sportsmanlike attitude about the whole thing.

Even six months ago, Joe would have never imagined himself living out in California, wasting his talents and barely making the rent by working in one of the overpriced souvenir shops that littered the little beach town, but he was loving every minute of it—or so he told himself. Of course, it would have been less fun if he didn't have two of his old Bayport chums along for the ride. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Phil to agree to move out here, but he had gotten a job with an up-and-coming software developer, and he hadn't wanted to squander his chance. Joe hadn't dragged their other old friend, Tony Prito, though. If anything, it was Tony who had dragged him out here. After several years of trying to figure out what he wanted to do, Tony had finally gotten an itchy foot and moved out to California, where he was working in the same souvenir shop that had hired Joe. It wasn't anything glamorous, but it was fun, and he had managed to convince Joe, who was also trying to figure his life out, to come out, too. Either one of them renting an apartment here on his own was out of the question, but Tony had already found a roommate in Shaun, and when Phil finally came out, the four of them together were able to split rent nicely.

For the first few weeks, the four of them spent a lot of afternoons after work lounging on the beach or surfing. In time, as they each found their niches here, there came to be less and less time for the beach. On this particular afternoon, Tony was helping the young adult group at the church where he and Joe went with an outreach project on a local college campus. He was always trying to convince his roommates, especially Joe, to come to the young adult meetings, but they had never yet taken him up on it, so that was why the three of them were at the beach without him.

Shaun and Joe caught several waves before they took a break. Shaun had grown up just thirty miles down the coast and had been surfing practically since he could walk. He was good, and Joe knew that next to him, he looked like a rank amateur. Not that Joe was bad at surfing himself; having done so much of it in the last six months, he had decent form and no longer looked like one of the tourists trying it out for the first time. He just wasn't quite up to the same standard as Shaun.

Out of the two of them, Shaun was the first to reach the beach. By the time Joe arrived, he found his friend being swarmed by three girls in bikinis. Somehow Joe felt suddenly uncomfortable. For a moment, he thought he'd go back over to where Phil was still buried in his book, but then Shaun caught his eye and beckoned him over. He couldn't very well ignore the summons, so he shuffled over, trying to keep his eyes on the sand.

"Hey, Joe, you should meet my new friends," Shaun said. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't share them, but there's enough to go round." The girls giggled. "Girls, this is Joe Hardy. And, Joe, meet Candace, Everly, and Darcy."

Joe looked up to acknowledge the introduction. He meant it only to be a quick glance, but then he locked eyes with one of them. She stared back at him, though she looked much less surprised. They had met one another. It was Darcy…Darcy…Joe couldn't remember her last name. Maybe he had never heard it. To be perfectly honest, he really didn't care.

"I never expected to see you again, Joe." Darcy was the first one to speak. She had a teasing tone that made Joe's blood boil as he thought about the last time they had seen one another. She had no right to sound so familiar and friendly with him, and anyway, he somehow didn't believe that she was surprised to see him.

"You know each other?" Shaun asked in surprise. "And you never told me? Although, I can't say I blame you, bro, keeping a girl like this under wraps."

"We haven't seen each other in a long time," Joe replied through gritted teeth.

Darcy laughed. "No, that's for sure. But I'd hoped we'd meet again. I have some good memories of you. You look good these days, although where did you get such a vicious scar?"

Joe glanced down at the scar on his side. It was a nasty one, but Joe had long ago learned to live with it. He was tempted not to answer the question. It was none of Darcy's business, or anyone else there. But saying the blunt truth might make Darcy a trifle uncomfortable herself, and in a spiteful moment, he decided that was worth it. "I got shot by a serial killer."

"You what?" gasped one of the other girls—Everly, Candace, Joe wasn't entirely sure which was which.

"Oh, yeah," Shaun said. He, of course, had asked the same question months earlier and he liked to brag about having a friend with such an exciting past. "Joe here used to be a detective. He's gotten into some really crazy stuff. You should ask him about it."

Darcy put on a sickly sweet grin. "I don't suppose you ever told Shaun about your adventure with me."

"There's nothing to tell," Joe retorted icily. "Excuse me. I've got other things to do."

He turned and walked away with as much dignity as he could manage. Shaun called after him; he sounded concerned, like he could almost tear his thoughts from the three girls long enough to acknowledge that he might have offended Joe. It couldn't be helped. Joe would never explain in front of Darcy or those other girls, and maybe he wouldn't explain to Shaun at all. It wasn't a story that Joe wanted broadcasted.

"Hey, Phil, we've got trouble," he said as soon as he reached his friend's side. "Darcy's here."

"What?" Phil practically dropped his book. He looked wildly around until Joe pointed out Shaun and the group of girls. Fortunately, they hadn't followed him. It only took Phil a second to recognize Darcy. She was his ex-girlfriend, after all—or maybe ex-almost-girlfriend was more accurate. Instantly, he put the book up in front of his face again to hopefully keep her from recognizing him. "What's she doing here?" he hissed as if Darcy might overhear.

Joe shrugged. "I guess going to the beach. She moved out of Bayport a couple of months after...what happened. I've never bothered to keep track of her. I'd hoped we'd never run into each other again."

"Yeah." Phil breathed out. "Any chance she's grown up at all?"

"Not from the way she talked." Joe shook his head in disgust. "She was actually joking about it, like she thought I'd find it funny."

"Wait…so Shaun knows about it now?" Phil asked.

"No, she didn't say outright what happened, but she acted like we were old friends and had all these great memories together. But we're going to have to tell Shaun something for why we're not hanging out with her."

Phil shrugged. "That's easy enough. We can just tell him she's my ex. That's completely true and should be good enough for him."

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I guess so. Ugh. You know, I'd practically forgotten all about it until she showed up again."

"You're lucky." Phil shook his head. "I still feel like just as mortified every time the whole embarrassing thing get dredged up again. Anyway, let's beat it while we still can. Shaun can catch the bus later."

HBHBHBHBHB

Officer Frank Hardy was still shaking a little. It wasn't the first time he'd had a gun pointed at it, but it had been the first time as a police officer. Most of the other times he had ever been threatened, it had been personal. It had been because the person on the other end of the gun knew his name and his face. This time, he didn't. He had made it clear that the only thing he cared about was the badge that Frank was wearing and that he noticed nothing else about him. He didn't care about his name; he didn't care who his family was; he didn't care that Frank was married. The suspect hadn't taunted him with any of those things like all the ones who came before him had. Even if he had known about them, he probably wouldn't have used them. All he cared about was that he had a cop in his sights. It was a strange feeling to be reduced to a nameless, faceless non-individual, someone whose only identity came from being part of a particular group. It was worse than having someone with a personal grudge come after him.

"You okay, Frank?" Officer Mark Burns asked him. Burns was his training officer while Frank was on probation. He was past forty and had very little in common with Frank in terms of either life experience or interests, but he acted almost like a big brother to him. That took some getting used to. Frank had always been the big brother himself, but it was kind of nice to have someone else step into that role for a change.

"Uh, yeah," Frank replied to Burns' question. He was sure he didn't look okay, sitting on that armless chair, gripping the sides like he was afraid he was going to fall off. "It just was unexpected, you know?"

"Yeah, very." Burns sat in the chair next to him. "That was on me. I should have been more careful. It's a good reminder to both of us to be careful going into a domestic. Chances are, whichever party didn't call us in is probably not too happy about us interfering. Sometimes even the one who did call changes their mind and isn't happy either."

Frank shook his head. "I don't understand it. A guy beats up his girlfriend, and then he blames us for their problems."

Burns shrugged. "Cops are easy scapegoats for a lot of things. The most important qualities for this job are being able to make good decisions quickly and under a lot of pressure, integrity, and a very thick skin."

"I'm starting to see that. Think I can cut it?"

"After what I saw today, I'd say so. You handled that situation well, once you were in it. Like I said, we both could have used better judgment, but that's on me at this stage of the game. Still, you didn't panic. You got the situation under control and nobody was hurt."

"Thanks."

Burns chuckled. "Now, just don't let it go to your head. I don't want you doing something stupid and blowing your probation after all."

"Yes, sir," Frank replied teasingly.

"All right, all right. Let's get this written up in the report. I don't want to be here all night."

Having a father who was a former police officer and having his own experience as a private detective, Frank shouldn't have been shocked by the amount of reports he had to write about every incident, no matter how trivial, but he was. It felt like half the job was just writing up reports about every detail of every day. Still, all things considered, Frank didn't regret turning in his private detective's license for a badge. He wanted the experience of working for someone else besides his dad, especially since Joe had quit, and he wanted to understand how the police worked. Now he was doing both, as well as taking on an even more active role in keeping Bayport safe. He knew that the minute his probation was over, Chief Collig wanted him to transfer to a detective unit, but Frank was finding that he actually liked working a beat for a change of pace.

When he finally finished all the reports and went home, his wife, Callie, met him at the door. She gave him a quick kiss. "Hi, honey. How did work go today?"

"Well, it was exciting," Frank replied.

Callie hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the details behind that vague answer, but if Frank needed to talk about it, she would listen. She asked if he wanted to.

"Maybe later," Frank replied. He hung up his jacket. "How was your day?"

"Quiet," Callie said. "The most exciting thing I did was run down to the mall."

"Uh-oh," Frank teased her. "I hope you didn't have too much fun."

"Like I've every overspent," Callie retorted. "Well, actually, I did stop in that new shop, the art supply store. I might start overspending if I hang around there too much."

Frank chuckled as he sat down on the sofa and pulled Callie down next to him. "I guess I could forgive that one. After all, it's practically an investment. One of these days, you're going to paint a masterpiece and we'll be set for life."

"It doesn't work that way usually. Besides, you actually have to settle down and paint once in a while to paint a masterpiece."

"Maybe you just need some inspiration. As soon as I'm off probation and can get some time off, we should take a trip somewhere."

"Like California?" Callie asked.

Frank felt as if a sudden chill had come into the air. "Why California?"

"We haven't even seen Joe since he moved out there?" Callie said. "I know he could come out here more easily than we can go there and he never has and he hardly ever calls, but that doesn't mean we should just forget he exists."

"Let's not talk about Joe, Callie. It's just…"

"I know," Callie said when Frank didn't finish. "I miss him, too, and I know that you're disappointed that he didn't stay with the detective agency."

"It's not that, really," Frank said. "It's the way he quit. He didn't give any reason, any warning, any chance for Dad or me to talk to him about it. He just walked out. When I did try to talk to him, it just turned into a big blow-up, and ever since, I can barely get him to answer his phone. He doesn't even return texts until a couple of days later usually. Tony and Phil are just as far away, and I hear from them more often than Joe. I'd really like to know why he doesn't want me in his life, but since he doesn't, I doubt he'd like it if we dropped in on him in California."

Callie frowned and stared into space for a second or two as she thought about this. "I don't know what's bothering him. It's only been three months, though. It might not be too late to fix whatever the problem is. At the very least, I want to know that we gave it everything we've got."

Frank sighed. "You're right about that. We'll see. It'll be months before I can take vacation time, anyway. It did sound nice to have a vacation to look forward to, instead of dread."

"I don't know that we need to look forward to anything." Callie snuggled closer. "The present, right now, is everything I want."

Frank put his arms around her. "Me, too."