Deputy Taylor allowed his phone to ring three times before answering the Nokia. A quick glance at the digits printed across the phone's screen told him the moment of truth was near. The Warner goose chase Sheriff Daniels sent him on would wait. He had a more urgent matter to address.

Depressing the call received button on his phone curtly he answered, "Taylor."

He did not have to say another word.

The voice on the other end told him, "Little Bird dropping."

Deputy Taylor was pleased. He grinned from ear to ear.

"Seventh cousin found," he was then informed.

That was the news he wanted to hear.

"Got a man making a special delivery to Miss S. out on 42 any time now," was the third piece of good news singing sweet music in Deputy Taylor's ears.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. Greenbacks always do.

"Your package is delivered," Deputy Taylor told his caller, "business doing pleasure with you."

Deputy Taylor cut the call off. He spun his cruiser around in the middle of the road on Livingston Drive. He wondered if he still had time to observe the bewildered expression Beth Sorenson would have on her face when she received the word. Rapidly he sped off towards Highway 42. This was one show he did not want to miss.

Beth could hear the highway wind. Fifteen miles was a long way from Astatula. She noticed her pursuer closed the gap behind her. She worried if she was the selected next intended target of the Astatula Assassin?

"Why was Cody creating an issue at Old Man Penzler's and drawing Brock Daniels away from her when she needed him most?" she asked herself.

Beth decided if she survived this ordeal, Cody would have some tall explaining and major apologizing to do to her.

Then it happened. Her worst nightmare. The right rear tire on her car blew. Now what? At least she had her pistol by her side. She feared she'd need the firepower soon.

Trying to remain calm in the face of imminent danger, Beth eased up on the accelerator. Her speed rapidly decreased. She steered the car off the highway onto the right shoulder of the road. The other vehicle pulled up behind her and the driver climbed out of his car.

At the same time Beth exited her's. She did not know him. Her loaded .357 at the ready.

"Nasty looking flat you have there, Beth," the stalker casually mentioned.

"How do you know my name?" Beth demanded, surprised he had used it so calmly.

Walking to the rear of his car and popping the vehicle's trunk, he told her, "That's not important, Beth. But, in case you're wanting to know, you're popular in Palo Pinto."

Beth allowed the comment to slide.

"Keep your hands where I can see them or I'll drop you where you're at!" she warned him.

"Let's see Brockie-Poo sort that one out," he laughingly replied, then mockingly continued with, "Astatula Sheriff arrests soon-to-be wed girlfriend for murder of man changing her tire. That ought to make all the gossip rags. Yes indeed. All of them."

He removed a jack from out of the trunk of the car.

Beth was perplexed, to say the least. First the guy had stalked her. Now he was neighborly changing her tire. The story didn't add up.

"Where's your spare tire, Beth?" was all the man asked her approaching her vehicle, "You're not really going to shoot an unarmed Good Samaritan like me are you?"

Reaching for her fob, Beth popped her trunk with one hand. Her gun still in the other. If he was here to help her she was going to accept the offer.

Lifting the spare tire out of Beth's vehicle the stranger set to work. First, he leaned the tire against the side of the vehicle. Then, he knelt down on the ground so he could work. He loosened the lug nuts and placed the jack under the car so he could raise the vehicle up until the blown tire was off the ground.

He wiggled it off the vehicle and placed the good tire where the bad one had been. He put the lug nuts back where they belonged and tightened them. Finally, he lowered the car back down to the ground and extracted his jack. Singing "I've Been Working On The Railroad" the entire time.

Beth just stood back and watched his efforts. What no good could this stalker have in mind? She tried to reason, knowing he had not followed her all this way simply to change her tire. She closely watched him walk back behind his vehicle and return his jack to its rightful storage place. He slammed the trunk shut and turned to face Beth.

"Oh, by the way, Beth," he nonchalantly said reaching into the right rear pocket of the jeans he wore, "I almost forgot. This notification is what brought me out here after you."

He handed Beth the folded paper. Still not trusting him, Beth took it out of his hand and unfolded it. She read the contents. She could not believe the writing.

"It's all there in black and white, Beth," the process server informed her, then stated, "my employer, Andrew Pozzuto, LLD, represents Cody's Seventh Cousin, and only known living relative. He awaits the boy's arrival. We trust you will ensure his immediate safe return to Palo Pinto."

Beth's first inclination was to wad the paper up and shove it down the man's throat or stuff it up another part of his lower anatomy.

Noticing her anguish he coldly told her, "And, by the way, Beth, the proceedings are valid. It's time for Cody to come home. Where he belongs."

With that he climbed back into his car. Heading east, he quickly disappeared leaving Beth standing there stunned.

Staring through his field glasses, Deputy Taylor could not be more pleased. He had seen what he wanted to see. The whole spectacle he had orchestrated. Now he would bring Werner in for questioning.

On the far side of Astatula, at the Health Spa, Victim Number Five of the Astatula Assassin would soon be discovered.