J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you all for continuing to read! Thanks especially to MargaretA66, max2013, and Candylou for your reviews on the previous chapter! I know I'm getting these chapters out quickly—one a day for the last three days—so if you've "gotten behind," don't worry about it. Just read at your pace. But I wanted to point it out that I've uploaded several chapters close together so that you don't accidently skip one of them (been there, done that myself). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! God bless!

Chapter XI

A warm, salty breeze rustled Jenna's dark-brown hair as she and Phil strolled onto the beach. It was odd, Phil thought, that right now he would be paying attention to how lovely she was, even making the ocean pale in comparison.

"Is something wrong?" Jenna asked suddenly, realizing that Phil was looking at her.

Phil started and pretended to be looking at the ocean. "Uh, I was just thinking what a nice day it is. For the beach. We could never go to the beach in December back in Bayport. At least, not to swim."

Jenna grinned. "No, I guess not. So…there are a few things better about California than Bayport after all," she added teasingly.

"There are a few things," Phil agreed. Then he told himself to get his mind back on business. "But right now, they've both got Black Rose lurking around them. And we're not here to enjoy the weather or the scenery. We're supposed to be finding Shaun."

"We don't have far to look." Jenna nodded ahead of them. "There he is, right there. With a girl, of course."

Phil looked up and saw his former roommate polishing a surfboard. He had to give his head a slight shake. If there was one thing that Shaun Stane cared just as much about as flirting, it was surfing. Right now, he was apparently attending to both interests at once. A pretty girl in a sweatshirt was sitting nearby and the two were talking as Shaun worked.

"Shaun!" Phil called and waved.

Shaun looked up and waved back. The girl also looked up, but she didn't make any move of welcome. In fact, Phil thought she looked upset.

"Hey, Phil! Jenna!" Shaun called as they came closer. "I haven't seen you two in ages. What have you been up to, man?"

"Um, well, nothing too fun, actually," Phil replied, suddenly unsure how to broach the topic at hand.

There was no need to. Shaun's grin faded and he nodded knowingly. "You've been trying to figure out who killed Darcy. We heard about it. That's what Everly and me were just talking about."

Phil started at the name. He hadn't actually ever met Darcy's friends, who were the ones he was really trying to locate. All he knew was that their names were Everly and Candace. He wondered if this was the same Everly.

"Oh, I guess you never met Everly," Shaun went on. "Everly Gillespie, everybody. And, Everly, this is my old bro, Phil Cohen, and Jenna Ridgeley."

Everly gave a thin smile and nodded an acknowledgement of the introduction.

Jenna smiled in a more friendly manner. "It's nice to meet you, Everly. Were you a friend of Darcy's?"

"I knew her, a little," Everly said. "I wouldn't really say we were friends, but it was still a shock what happened to her."

"Do you have any ideas what did happen to her?" Jenna asked, trying to sound casual.

Everly wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "Of course we know what happened to her. That creepy Angelo person killed her, didn't he?" She looked at Shaun. "That's what you said."

Shaun scratched his head sheepishly. "I don't know for sure," he admitted.

"But that's what you think?" Phil asked.

Shaun shrugged. "It makes the most sense. I mean, she said he was going to before, so he just came back and finished it. I don't know anything for sure, though, so there's no point asking me about it. Why not ask the cops?"

"They don't know what happened, either," Phil pointed out. "That's why Jenna and I are trying to figure it out. You both knew her at least a little. Any little details we can find might help. For instance, when was the last time you saw her?"

Shaun went back to polishing his surfboard to avoid making eye contact. "I don't remember. I only saw her a couple of times after she tried to kill herself…or Angelo tried to kill her the first time. Whichever it was. It was probably a couple weeks ago, at least."

"What about you?" Phil asked Everly.

"I saw her the day before she died," Everly replied. "I ran into her at the mall. My friend, Candace, and I were there getting our nails done and then we were going to have lunch. Darcy acted really scared, like she thought someone was following her. She kept looking behind her, you know."

"Angelo?" Phil asked.

"I have no idea," Everly admitted. "I never saw him. Anyway, she didn't want to stay and talk to us, obviously. She did say one strange thing."

"What?" A spark of hope rose up in Phil that they would learn something worthwhile here.

"She said that if anyone asked about her to remind them that a white rose can be made into a black one, but a black rose can't be changed back. I didn't take her seriously then, because it sounds like something out of some campy spy movie or something, but then when she was killed, I started to think maybe it was important after all. Do you have any idea what it could mean?"

"Maybe," Phil said. "What do you think, Shaun?"

"Me? Why would I know anything about it?" Shaun sighed. "Look, I got all caught up in this stuff by accident. I didn't ask for any of it. You and Tony and Joe all seemed like normal, stand-up guys. A little square, but that didn't bother me. You let me do my own thing and let me be. What more could a guy ask for? But then with Tony getting killed and everything, I just…I don't want to get dragged into it again."

"I get that," Phil replied, "but this is serious. There's been another murder. If you're right that Angelo is behind both of them, he might kill someone else again. You might be able to help stop that."

"How? I don't know anything."

"You don't?"

Shaun closed his eyes as he felt all three members of his audience looking at him. "Not much. I hung out with Darcy a few times. She was always asking about You and Tony and Joe. I thought she just liked you guys better, but since it turns out she was working with Angelo, I guess that probably was the real reason."

"Go on."

"She got me to help her steal Joe's cell phone. She said it was for a prank. I knew that they kind of knew each other, so I believed her. She also got me to give her a key to our apartment."

"But I thought she tried breaking in one time," Jenna objected. "Why would she do that if she had a key?"

"I think she must have given it to Angelo, and he used it to leave Joe's smashed cell phone in there." Shaun hung his head. "I know I should have mentioned all this before. I should have told the police right away. But I was afraid they wouldn't believe me that I honestly didn't think she meant any harm. As it is, I sort of helped to murder Tony."

"If you really didn't think she was doing anything wrong, you're not to blame for that," Jenna assured him.

"Yeah, but now by not saying anything, maybe I helped Angelo to get away, and so now I also sort of helped to murder Darcy." Shaun shook his head. "I just want to go back to the days when only strangers got murdered."

"I don't know," Everly interjected. "I'm sorry about Darcy and about Tony, too, even though I never met him, but…I don't know how to explain it."

"I think I understand," Jenna spoke up. "It makes you appreciate life more when you realize how fragile it really is."

"Yeah, I guess that's it," Everly agreed.

HBHBHBHBHB

Iola had half-expected there to still be police all over in front of Fenton Hardy's office when she arrived in the early afternoon, but there wasn't a single officer in sight. That made sense, when she thought it over. The attack on Lisa had been staged, after all. Chief Collig wouldn't have wanted to waste police resources by "investigating" a staged attack. There were two cars in front of the office, which Iola recognized as being Joe's and Frank's. She was glad they were both here. She had been dying to hear how the operation had gone.

She found Joe, Frank, and Callie sitting in the waiting area of the office, talking in low voices. They looked up when she entered.

"Hi," Iola said, closing the door behind her. "How did it go? Is Lisa safe?"

"For now," Joe replied. "I think it went all right. There were no obvious problems, at least."

"Good. How are the rest of the Pritos doing?"

"Not so great," Callie told her. "They know it was all staged, of course, but I think it's pretty rough on them, knowing that Black Rose is back in town."

Iola made her way to one of the chairs and sat down as she felt her back beginning to hurt. "Do you have a plan for what to do next?"

"Not really," Frank admitted. "We talked to Lisa, but we didn't learn very much. We're waiting for Dad and Sam to get back so we can talk it over with them."

"There's got to be a way to stop these people," Iola said. "There's just got to. It's not like they're all-powerful. They've got to make mistakes sometime and then you should be able to catch them."

"Our trouble is that we make more mistakes than they do," Frank replied. "We're never going to stop them as long as we keep doing that."

Callie patted his knee."There will be a break sooner or later."

Before Frank could give a dismal reply to that, the door opened again and everyone again looked to see who it was. It was Fenton and Sam. Fenton was carrying a bundle of mail under his arm. They both looked tired.

"Any news?" Frank asked.

"So far, it looks like Black Rose isn't trying anything," Fenton reported. "That's good news, as far as it goes, but it doesn't help us catch them."

"I just hope the real Evangeline doesn't show up now," Iola said. "That would be all we need."

"No kidding," Fenton agreed. He set the mail on the front desk, except for one large manila envelope. "This has your name on it, Joe. It's postmarked from the same city in California where you were living."

Joe stood up to take the package, but he had a puzzled look on his face. "Phil didn't say anything about sending me something, and neither did Shaun, and I don't know anyone else back there that would have. Besides, either of them would have put a return address on it. Whoever sent this didn't. They just wrote the address…" Joe paused as he looked at his own name written on the envelope above the words c/o Hardy Detective Agency and the address of the office. He realized that the handwriting was familiar. It looked like Darcy's. He made a quick mental calculation of how many days ago she had been killed. That would be just about right for the package to be arriving in the mail if she had sent it earlier that day. Joe remembered that she had said she might send something to him, but that it would be dangerous for both her and him. If she hadn't been exaggerating, maybe this package held the answer for why she had been killed.

Hands shaking slightly, Joe grabbed a letter opener from the desk and slit open the envelope, which had been reinforced all the way around with shipping tape. There was a thick stack of papers inside. Joe slid them out and looked at the paper on top. It was a simple sheet of lined notepaper, addressed to him in Darcy's handwriting. The date at the top was the day she had died. Joe closed his eyes, momentarily unable to read any further.

"Is something wrong?" Callie asked, noticing that his face had gone pale.

Everyone turned to look at him. Iola had to crane around in her chair to see him. Joe didn't answer as he sat on the edge of the desk.

"Joe? What is it? Has something else happened now?" Fenton reached out toward him, as it almost looked as if Joe might faint.

Finally, Joe cleared his throat. "No, um, this is from Darcy. I have no idea what it is. I don't know that I can read it. Could you, Dad?" He handed the stack of papers to his father.

Fenton took them, but he looked unsure of the whole situation. "Are you sure you want me to read it out loud?"

Joe glanced at Iola, the only one in the room besides Sam who wasn't aware of the details of the whole story with Darcy, even though she had been one of the most affected, in some ways. "Yeah. Go ahead. If she mentions it, it's past time I explained anyway."

He went to sit down, choosing a seat off by himself. Fenton cleared his throat, looked down at the paper, and began to read.

Joe,

I wasn't sure how to address this letter. I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I wrote "Dear Joe," and I don't know any other way to start a letter. It's not important, I guess. I'm just putting off the real reason I'm writing this.

The other papers in this envelope weren't written by me. They were written by someone you probably remember: Rudger. You know, the Black Rose agent who tried to recruit your friend Lisa into the organization and then later got killed just as he was about to defect. Well, just as he was about to tell you everything. He had already defected by writing down all this stuff. He meant it to be a safeguard. He gave it to me so I'd turn it over to the authorities if Black Rose ever actually killed him. I didn't do it. I was too scared, because I knew that if Black Rose ever found out that I'd sent these papers out, they'd kill me.

This is what I told you I might send you when you visited me at the hospital. I know it might have been safer to give it to Phil. I see him often enough that I could get it to him without raising suspicions…maybe. But I couldn't. Whoever has these papers is in constant, serious danger. I didn't want to do that to Phil.

I know I don't have any right to do it to you, either, but you're the only person I trust. I know you'll know what to do with it. This is probably the last time you'll ever hear from me. It's very possible I could be dead before the package gets to you. In that case, I want you to know two things. First, I'm not as afraid to die as I was before, not since I've made friends with Phil and Jenna and some of Jenna's other friends. I understand now that it's not the end to die and that even someone like me can be forgiven for all the terrible things I've done. That's why the second thing I want you to know is how sorry I am for what I did to you. For everything. I wish there was some way I could make it up to you, but I know I never really can. The best I can probably do is leave you alone, even if by some miracle, I don't die. If I do die, don't waste any time feeling sorry that you didn't like me. You had every right not to.

You'll probably like me even less when I tell you the other thing. When I came to Bayport a few years ago, I was working for Black Rose. You know that. But I wasn't trying to get at your or Frank. They wanted me to get at Lisa's family. That's why I got a job at the restaurant where Tony was working and tried to get him to ask me out. Fortunately for him, I wasn't his type. Then when you and your brother wrapped that case, Black Rose decided that a direct hit on one of your closest friends would only ensure that you Hardys would keep coming after them. So, really, if it hadn't been for you, Tony and the rest of his family probably would have been killed a lot sooner. I don't know if that's much consolation now, but I wanted you to know. I'm so, so sorry.

I've already done so much harm to you. I hope that no more harm will come to you because of this letter, but I'm afraid it might. Be very careful with it.

Yours,

Darcy

Everyone had been holding their breath as they listened, but it was more excitement at the extra contents of the package than over any sentiment in the letter.

"Is that really Rudger's confession?" Sam asked. "If it is, this could be the break we've been hoping for that could put an end to Black Rose."

"Let me see," Fenton said, already reading through the first page silently. "It looks like it is. Handwritten, too. I think we have some samples of Rudger's handwriting, so we'll be able to authenticate this."

"But what does it say?" Iola asked, leaning on the arm of her chair in enthusiasm, although she glanced at Joe every few seconds. Joe was sitting with his face in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees.

"Just a moment. I'm going to make a photocopy of it first."

Fenton went into his personal office and ran the sheets through the copier. Once he had finished, Fenton locked the original—along with Darcy's letter—in his safe. Then he brought the copies to read from.

"A lot of the pages are photos and other evidence to back up what Rudger is saying," Fenton explained. "The actual story is quite a bit shorter than it looks." He cleared his throat and began again to read.

To whom it may concern:

My name is Rudy Germain, but nobody I know now knows that or cares. They all call me by my nickname, Rudger. When I joined Black Rose as a teenager, I wanted to leave my whole old life behind me, even my name. So this is an explanation of how Rudger came to be.

I'll start by saying that I don't really know what Black Rose's goals are or how it plans to accomplish them. This is the same for everyone I ever knew in Black Rose. At least, nobody knows the real reason. Everyone has been told whatever they need to hear to join up. I know this because I worked as a recruiter for them most of my career. I was never given any specific ideology that I was supposed to convince anyone about. All I was ever told to do was to get desirable recruits, and if I had to tell them that Black Rose was dedicated to stopping an imminent alien invasion to get them to join, then I would do it.

That's how I got mixed up in the whole mess in the first place. I was fifteen, and like a lot of teenagers, I took the idea of "righteous anger" and twisted it so that righteousness equaled anger. You weren't righteous if you weren't angry, because if you weren't angry, you weren't doing anything about whatever problem you were angry about. So said my fifteen-year-old brain. I was angry, all right, but I still didn't do anything, other than listen to music my parents didn't approve of and smoke pot. I came from a very straight-laced town. Even the other kids in school thought I was a loser. They were right, of course, but I was lonely and angry. I guess I shouldn't say all the kids thought that. There were some seniors who asked me if I wanted to join their metal band. I had to join. I mean, it was my kind of music and these were seniors paying attention to little ol' angry, lonely sophomore me. What they didn't mention was that the band was just a front to lure me in. They had already picked me out as a recruit, you see. No one is ever recruited by chance. Black Rose picks a target, studies everything about them, and then uses something they like to attract them to Black Rose, under the false belief that it's a club or something dedicated to their passion. I was picked because they could see already that I would be a great recruiter myself. I'm not sure how they saw that, but they were right. I had no convictions, other than that everyone besides Black Rose had treated me badly. Lying, pulling kids away from their families, brainwashing them into becoming killers…it didn't bother me, as long as I was getting back at all the kinds of people I hated.

Anyway, with the band. Turns out, they did a lot of other things besides just play music. I got deeper and deeper into it. They convinced me to do all kinds of things and break all kinds of laws until they had enough on me that if I ever left and somehow managed to not be killed by them, then my life would be ruined anyway. Since the only way anyone's going to read this is if I'm dead, I don't think there's any need to go into what they made me do. The important thing is that it was all sick and twisted and that my experience is practically identical to the experience of all Black Rose's recruits. Or victims, which might be the more accurate word, actually.

The leader of this whole operation is a fellow who calls himself "The Faceless One." Practically no one in the whole organization has ever seen him without a mask. That is, no one knows that they've seen him without his mask. I suspect he typically passes himself off as a normal and probably even upstanding citizen. Some old, rich guy who give away millions to charity every year and everyone thinks he's great, probably. He's actually a bloodthirsty monster who has ordered the deaths of hundreds of innocent victims and has personally carried out dozens of these murders, I have no doubt. I don't know what his ultimate goal is, but he'll let no one stand in his way.

This Faceless One is smart and has plenty of resources. That's how he's stayed in business so long. He's made sure that everyone knows as little as possible. I can't give any names for anyone in the organization, except for a few that I personally helped recruit. I've made lists of information about as many as I could and they're included in this packet. I hope some of them can still be rescued. They didn't start out so bad. You see, that's part of Black Rose's game. They don't want kids who are already mixed up in illegal things. Kids like that have already proven that they don't like to follow rules. They pick kids who have had decent upbringings but still have a chip on their shoulder about something, kids who will follow unquestioningly once they've been sufficiently corrupted.

That's why the organization took on a Black Rose as its emblem, by the way. There's no such thing as a black rose, you see. There are very deep purple roses, but they're not really black. The only way to get an actual black rose is to take a white rose and put it in dye so that it drinks up the dye instead of water and its petals turn black. That's what Black Rose does to these kids. They give them poisonous ideologies to drink up until they're indoctrinated into being a black rose. They even used to get a black rose tattooed behind their ear, but the Faceless One decided that was too obvious and stopped the new recruits from doing that. There are still a few older ones who have it, like yours truly.

Allowing the tattoos in the first place is one of only three mistakes he's made, that I'm aware of. He also let a photograph be taken of him, which I had in my possession at one time. I've given it to someone who I think will eventually turn it over to the police. The third mistake was about fifteen years ago. He partnered up with a gangster named Gregorio Moretti. Moretti was willing to pay him well, and it was a time when Black Rose was struggling, and in return, Black Rose would supply muscle for the war Moretti was waging against his father, who was also a gangster. In the end, Moretti and several of our people got killed, and what was worse, two of the worst possible people found out about the existence of Black Rose.

One was Moretti's daughter, Evangeline. She figured the whole thing out and knows more about Black Rose than any one member does. Right now, she's in jail, but only because she wants to be. She'll only stay as long as she wants. When she gets out, everyone in her way will be sorry for it. Watch her. She'll put up a good act about being changed, but don't you believe it. She's a sociopath if I've ever seen one, and I'm surrounded by them most of the time.

The other person is Fenton Hardy. Since this is supposed to end up in the hands of law enforcement, I doubt I need to explain who he is. He's dogged Black Rose ever since and he—and his sons—will eventually bring it down if they're not held back. Which is good. I hope I'll live to see that day, but I'm realistic enough to think I won't.

If you're reading this, then I was right and I didn't live to see that day. Don't think I'm some sort of hero for sending this to you. The truth is, I hope I'm wasting my time writing it all down and that no one ever reads this. I'm just writing it as collateral. If Black Rose kills me, the person that I'm entrusting it to has been instructed to turn it over to law enforcement.

I hereby certify and solemnly swear that everything I have written here is the truth, to the best of my knowledge, or whatever I'm supposed to put to make it legal so they can use it court.

Rudy Isaac Germain