J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! Thank you especially to EvilExecutor, MargaretA66, Candylou, max2013, and caseykam for your reviews! Candylou, hopefully this chapter will answer some of your questions. As for why Evangeline was released, it all comes down to her putting on a good act (or is she acting?) and being disabled. It does happen sometimes that criminals with violent records can get parole or make bail much sooner than I personally am comfortable with. Considering Evangeline's circumstances, I don't feel it's too much of a stretch that she might have been one of them. If you disagree, that's okay! Critiques to the logic in my stories help remind me to not be lazy and to make sure the story actually works. Thanks again for reading and I hope you all enjoy! God bless!

Chapter II

Darkness had settled in for the night by the time Frank was pulling into the parking lot next to his and Callie's apartment. It was only four-thirty. It hadn't been a busy day, so writing reports hadn't taken as long as it sometimes did. Frank was glad of that. That day couldn't get over soon enough for him.

He noticed that the lights in the apartment were turned off. Callie's car was still in its usual spot, and Frank frowned. He tried the door and it was unlocked. He opened it slowly and then flipped the light on.

Instantly, he was greeted by a groan. Callie was lying on the couch with her feet propped up on one arm and she had a hand over her eyes to shield them from the light. Then she cautiously took it away to look at her husband. "Frank, you're home early."

"Are you all right?" Frank hurried to her side. The last thing he needed was something else to worry about, but if Callie was ill, that pushed all his other concerns to the side.

"I think so," Callie reassured him. "I just needed to lie down for a while."

"Do you need me to get you anything?"

"Not right at the moment." Callie sat up. "I'm feeling better now. I still can't quite believe it." She grinned.

Frank sat next to her and put his arm around her. "I know. I mean…It's not like we weren't planning on it. It's just exciting and terrifying all at the same time. And…" He stopped himself.

"And what?"

"Well, our timing could have been better."

Callie sighed. "I know. How did everything go so wrong all the sudden?"

Frank shrugged. "You've got to remember, most people don't have the full story. All they know is that…that Tony is dead and we may or may not have been able to prevent it. The papers don't want to clear things up because falls from grace and scandals and all that sell papers. Then, of course, Dad and Joe and I have managed to make a few enemies in the area—one or two wealthy people I could mention that we can't prove they're doing anything illegal, but who know that they'll be in trouble if they let their guard down—and they don't mind stoking the fire against us at all."

"In other words, in the court of public opinion, you're presumed guilty until proven innocent."

"And there're no appeals in that court," Frank added. He shook his head. "It all makes sense when you step back and look at how this has happened over and over again to all kinds of different people. It's really not personal, but at the same time, when it's your own neighbors doing it to you, it does feel a little personal."

Callie rested her head against his shoulder. "And when it's your elected officials who are also, sort of your bosses, it's even worse. You know I'll support whatever you decide. I know it will be hard for us if you do resign, but we'll be okay. You could find another job."

"Like Joe?" Frank asked wryly.

When Joe had come back to Bayport, the sudden hit to the Hardys' reputation in town had made it hard for him to find a job. At the moment, he was working as a night stocker for one of the local department stores for minimum wage.

Callie pursed her lips. "I could get a job, too, you know."

Frank shook his head. "Even if you didn't have to put the name 'Hardy' on your application, you'd have a hard time finding someone who would hire someone who's going to have to go on maternity leave in a few months. And then afterwards, paying for childcare would eat up almost everything you'd earn. It's not worth it. I just don't know what to do. But that's not the only thing. There's something else that happened today."

"What else?" Callie sat up in alarm. "The parole hearing? It didn't go so well, did it?"

"No. They let her out."

"Great." Callie leaned her head against his shoulder again. "That's exactly what we needed."

"Dad wants us all to go over to the house so we can talk about what we're going to do," Frank added.

"We're not going to go into hiding," Callie said firmly. "If we didn't hide from Black Rose, we're not going to hide from Evangeline."

HBHBHBHBHB

Laura Hardy was trying to pretend she didn't notice the way her husband was staring out the window, his arms crossed and a worried frown on his face. It wasn't the first time she had seen him like this, and she knew it wouldn't be the last time. Their lives were anything but normal. Laura couldn't prevent a sigh from escaping her lips. Why couldn't these criminals just leave them alone, even for a little while?

Fenton heard the sigh and turned to look at her. He didn't both to ask what was wrong; he knew perfectly well what it was. "Are you all right, dear?"

"Yes, I think so," Laura said, although it was hardly convincing. "Anyway, I'm the one who should be asking you that."

"I'm fine," Fenton replied. It was an excellent act, but Laura knew the words weren't true.

She came a few steps closer. "No, you're not. You haven't been fine for months now. I know it's almost been as hard for you as it has been for the boys."

Fenton's jaw tightened and he turned slightly away. "I should have stayed there. I shouldn't have gone to Florida."

"What would have you done that the police or the boys didn't do?" Laura asked. "It might not have made any difference."

Fenton shook his head. "Or it might have."

Fenton and Laura had been in California on that fateful case two months ago. At least, they had been until they had gone to Florida to look into a lead that had turned out to be a red herring. They had both known and been fond of Tony Prito, ever since he had become one of Frank and Joe's close friends. Even if it had been a stranger, such a tragic turn of events in a case would have been hard on them. Then, too, they were simultaneously grateful that it hadn't been one of their sons that they had had to bury and also appalled at the callousness that such a sentiment seemed to convey. It made for a strange mix of emotions that had yet to be processed.

Now wasn't to be the moment when that happened. Frank and Callie's car pulled into the driveway, and they went to meet them. Fenton's sister, Gertrude, also came to the door. She had never been married and had lived with her brother and his family for a number of years now.

Greetings had barely been exchanged before Joe also drove up and bounded out of his car, with Axel at his heels. He told the dog to stay outside while he came in the door behind his brother and sister-in-law.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I, uh, lost track of time."

"It doesn't matter," Fenton told him. "We just need to talk about this."

They went into the living room and sat down, all uncharacteristically subdued.

Fenton started the conversation by clearing his throat. "Now, the first thing we need to remember is not to overreact about this…"

"Not overreact?" Gertrude interrupted him. "How, exactly, do you overreact when there's a maniac on the loose, trying to kill your family?"

"We don't know that Evangeline will actually try anything," Fenton replied mildly. "Most likely, she will, but there's a slim possibility she won't. After all, the parole board was satisfied that she's reformed."

Gertrude sniffed. "What would they know about it?"

"I've got to agree with Aunt Gertrude here, Dad," Joe spoke up. "We already know that Evangeline can manipulate people. Besides that, she was totally Froot Loops before she was caught. I don't think she could recover completely in just five years, but she certainly could act like she did."

"Even if she did recover, it's still safest to prepare for the worst," Frank added.

Fenton nodded. "All of that is completely true, but it still doesn't mean that we should panic. Even if Evangeline does decide to continue her pursuit for revenge, she's limited in both what she can and what she will do. To begin with, her main targets are Mario Beretta, Sam, and myself. It's not her MO to hurt anyone else, unless they get in her way. She also wants to kill us herself. She can't see, so to do that, she'll have to get very close to her intended victim. That's not going to be easy to do when we all can recognize her."

"We know that she learned to aim a gun by sound, but if her victim was keeping too quiet, she couldn't hit them," Frank pointed out. "That will be something to remember if any of us do come face-to-face with her."

"She wouldn't have had a chance to practice shooting in jail," Callie said. "She's probably a worse shot now than she was then."

"Probably, although she might have found other ways to practice her aim," Fenton replied. "We can't count on her to be a bad aim, but if it comes down to it, I hope she is."

"So are you saying we should just sit here and wait for her to come and try to murder us?" Gertrude asked.

"No," Fenton said. "I think we should stay here. That part is correct. At this point, I think it's safe to say that there will always be another person coming for revenge. Evangeline isn't the first, and we've never run from the others. If we start now, when are we going to be able to stop? Evangeline isn't escaping jail; she's on parole. If she follows her pattern, she's going to be a model parolee up until she gets her chance. That means she's not going back to jail unless she gets that chance, so if we run now, we'll never be able to come home again. But that doesn't mean we should just wait for her. Everyone needs to be on the alert. I'm going to get some new security cameras and put them up around the house. Frank, I think you'd better put some around your apartment."

"Right," Frank agreed.

"And I suppose you're going to want us all to be armed," Joe said, looking down at his hands.

Everyone fell silent. There was more to the question than the words alone conveyed. The summer before last, Frank, Joe, and Laura had been held hostage during an attempted robbery. Frank had been shot and was in need of immediate medical care. It was clear that the robbers were not going to be talked into surrendering quickly, if at all. The police had thought that it would be best to use snipers to take out the robbers so that help could get to Frank in time. Fenton had been able to get a message to Joe, whose help was going to be necessary to get the robbers in front of the windows. At the last moment, Joe had lost his nerve and warned the robbers. The police fortunately had had a Plan B in place, so the incident hadn't ended in total disaster.

However, it was then that Joe had realized he would never be able to use deadly force in self-defense, and he knew that it might someday be necessary to do exactly that if he continued on as a detective. That was a major reason why he had quit and gone to California. If Angelo and Black Rose hadn't resurfaced a couple of months ago, he might never have gotten back into the detective business at all. As it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to do any more than help capture Tony's murderer. He had been working on that for that last few months, although he had been haunted by the fact that he had missed two opportunities where if he had been armed or hadn't been so hesitant to use a gun, he might have stopped Angelo before he had killed Tony.

"It would be a good idea," Fenton told him. "But if you're still against the idea…"

"No," Joe cut in. "You're right. It would be a good idea."

HBHBHBHBHB

After the conversation had ended, Joe went up to his room. It had been his room ever since he was old enough that he wasn't afraid to sleep in a room all by himself, barring the few months that he had actually managed to move out of the house. He kicked some dirty clothes lying on the floor out of the way as he went to his bed and flopped down on it. He had to chuckle ruefully as he did so. He had dropped out of college, moved back in with his parents, had a minimum-wage, barely-full-time job, and most people he knew were convinced that he and his entire family were practically murderers, or at least, dangerously incompetent. It was hardly the life he had always imagined living.

He turned over on his side. From this angle, he was directly facing his dresser. There was a framed photo on top of it. He was just far enough that he wouldn't have been able to make out the subject clearly if he hadn't already known what it was. It was a snapshot of the old "gang": Frank, Joe, Tony, Biff Hooper, Chet Morton, Phil Cohen, and Jerry Gilroy. Biff and Chet were the only ones who still lived in town, except for Frank and Joe, of course. Biff was working as a mechanic in an auto body shop, and Chet was helping his parents on their farm while trying to narrow down his long list of interests to one job that he could focus on. Joe was still close to Biff, but Chet hadn't been impressed by how things had gone down between Joe and Iola. Ever since they had broken up, Joe's friendship with Chet had also cooled. As for Phil, he was still in California, despite all his protestations at first that he hated it. Joe wondered whether he would eventually learn to like it. Jerry was down in Virginia, where he had a couple of different entrepreneur projects going on at once. Both of them were too busy to call often. It was ironic, Joe thought, how quickly they had all gotten busy again after Tony's death, which should have helped them get their priorities in better order.

A knock at the door made him jump. "Who's there?" he asked, sitting up and reaching for his phone so that he could pretend he had been doing something other than feeling sorry for himself.

"Frank."

Joe braced himself for a second before saying, "Come in."

Frank opened the door and walked in. He sat down in the chair at Joe's desk before looking around the room. "It looks exactly the same as it did when you were in high school."

Joe shrugged. "I never actually moved all of my stuff out. Came in handy now. But you didn't want to talk about my style of decorations, did you?"

"No. I wanted to ask you how the search for Angelo is coming." Frank shook his head slightly. "I wish I had more time to work on it."

"It wouldn't make any difference. I'm not getting anywhere. He's gone, vanished. It doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Angelo claims he joined up with Black Rose so he could destroy them from the inside-out, right? He goes through this whole elaborate plan with kidnapping and attacks and clandestine midnight meetings and the whole bit to get a photo of the head of Black Rose, a photo that we would have happily given to him if he had just asked for it. I mean, we all want to see Black Rose wiped off the face of the earth, too. True, we wouldn't have been thrilled to work with Angelo, considering his record, but he didn't need to do any of what he did to get that photo. And why kill Tony? He had the photo at that point. He didn't gain one single thing by doing it, other than to make sure we're on his trail. But then things get even more confusing. The trail disappears. That wouldn't be too surprising if Angelo was still a Black Rose member in good standing, but supposedly they found out that he was a traitor. He no longer has any connections. How does someone with no connections just vanish?"

"There is one way," Frank commented grimly. "Black Rose might have found him already. He might be at the bottom of some bay or river somewhere."

"I've been wondering that myself," Joe admitted. "Maybe we should be focusing more on Evangeline or Eva or whatever her name is."

"There's nothing much to do there, except stay as far away from her as possible. No, we can't give up the search for Angelo. If he's still alive, we've got to catch him, and if he's dead, we've got to know that for sure."

Joe turned on the display on his phone to check the time. It was still early, but he knew he should be getting to bed. He had to be at work at four in the morning. He was glad that being a "night stocker" really only meant working very early in the morning and getting off before noon, but he still died a little inside every time he had to wake up in practically the middle of the night and go to work at such a boring job. If Black Rose hadn't shoved its way into his life, things would be completely different right now. He would be finishing college and then he and Frank would be working with their dad. Iola would have never been hurt, and she and Joe would have never broken up. Tony would still be alive. All the really big problems of the last several years wouldn't have happened.

"Frank?" he said abruptly.

"Yeah?"

"Are we doing this for revenge or for justice?"

Frank blinked in momentary confusion. "Why are you asking that? Are you turning into some kind of philosopher?"

"No. It's just that we've run into a lot of people who did some crazy things for revenge. Angelo and Evangeline, for two of them. And don't forget that Alyssa Roche. She was basically doing the same things as Angelo before she got caught. And you know, Evangeline is just nuts, but Angelo and Alyssa are almost on the right side. Black Rose really did hurt them and it really does deserve to be stopped, but I don't want to end up like them."

"Hmm. I see what you mean." Frank thought about it for a minute or so. "The way I see it, where they went wrong is that they were willing to do anything it took to stop Black Rose, even if it was something wrong. They both said that. Maybe what we need to do is lay some ground rules."

"Right. Not murdering innocent people would be a good starting point."

"Are you sure that's not setting the bar too high?" Frank asked sarcastically. "We might trip over it."

"It's practically underground," Joe pointed out.

"It is underground. How about this: we take Angelo alive if at all possible."

"So he can face justice, like Evangeline did," Joe said bitterly. "We might get lucky and they might keep him in jail for a whole ten years."

"Joe…"

Joe shook his head. "You're right, Frank. I'm not arguing with you. I'm just tired of this whole thing. I'd say I wish it was over, but I'm not sure I'm going to like the way it ends."