Seems like everybody in Astatula knew about Cody's demise. It was all they gossiped about. Draping the string on the tag over the big toe on Cody's right foot I officially listed him as the tenth victim of the Astatula Assassin.

I knew this was the second saddest day of my life. The first was the day my son Tyler died in my arms from Meningitis when he was six months old. Now it appeared my Little Man was gone too.

Compassionately placing his hand on the top of my left shoulder Deputy Brewer offered, "I'll handle the scene here if you want me to Brock. It's the least I can do."

I looked back at Verne and replied, "No, I'll handle it. This is something I have to take care of myself."

I held my emotions in check the best I could. It wasn't easy.

Deputy Brewer did not say another word. Which I appreciated. He stepped back and moved over to Beth who sat like a stunned statue in the far corner of the room. Her face buried in a towel to muffle her crying.

Taking one last look at Cody's face, and seeing his eyes tightly closed, I knew none of the things I planned to do with him would ever come to fruition. I also realized all the words I still wanted to say to him would remain unsaid.

Nor would I get to share in watching him grow up or know what he would become. That was gone with the wind. It took all the strength I could muster to pull the sheet up over Cody's blond head. I did not want to.

As the Montegue Funeral Home attendees wheeled Cody's body out of his hospital room I tenderly placed my arm around Beth's shoulders. I could feel her trembling. We fell in line behind the gurney and followed Cody out to the waiting midnight black hearse that would transport him to the morgue.

Each step we took became harder and harder to manage. Our legs were weakening down the corridor to the elevator, as the elevator descended, and especially outside when we saw the back doors of the hearse open. We knew what that meant. Cody's body was placed inside and the doors on our lives closed forever. We would ride with Cody to his destination.

The next morning's edition of the Astatula Gazette newspaper's front page headlines screamed in big, dark black, boldface print, "Hometown Hero Cody Schroder Succumbs To Gunshot Wound Inflicted By Astatula Assassin!"

Which is just what I wanted them to report.

Peter Lewis, the same Editor who blasted me for resigning as Sheriff to attend to Cody wrote the accompanying story detailing Cody's heroics at Sullivan Lake. He also allowed me to proof the copy before the article was printed.

Beth and I decided there would be no public viewing. Cody only needed to rest in peace now. I told Mama Rosie to donate the stuffed animals Cody was given in the hospital to other less fortunate patients.

"Cody would have wanted it that way," I solemnly said.

Mama Rosie assured me she would gather them and donate each one as I had designated. Except for Blazer. The grey wolf Cody wanted those few minutes he woke up before slipping back into the coma. I had another plan for Blazer.

Three days later it was pouring rain as Beth and I stood, dressed completely in black from head to toe, at Cody's graveside. Beth held an umbrella tightly in her left hand trying to keep as much rain off her as possible. Not that she really cared. Beth held me just as tightly with her other arm.

The lid on Cody's casket stood open in the middle of his grave. I wanted it that way long enough for me to place Blazer on top of the body in the casket. Then it was securely sealed and lowered into the ground along with our broken, unmendable hearts.

Beth and I remained at Cody's grave while the workers began covering his casket with fill dirt. I picked up a shovel standing nearby and drove its blade into the dirt. Then I tossed the contents I scooped up on top of Cody's casket.

That part of the chore completed, I stood the shovel back up in the dirt pile beside the grave and observed as the front end loader began to pick up dirt and fill in Cody's grave.

"Thank you Cody for being the very best son a man could ever want," I told him, saying, "you touched me for a season. I will remember you for eternity! I love you son!"

With heavy hearts Beth and I slowly walked away from Cody's grave.

Safely out of sight, and half-hidden behind several headstones, Bee-Bo sat smoking a joint and observing all that transpired.

"Awww! How touching Daniels! How very touching! You almost make Bee-Bo want to cry," he mumbled mocking the scene he had just witnessed at Cody's burial..

He continued with, "But I'm not done with you yet. Not by a long shot! In fact I'm just beginning."

Then he warned, "The fawn may be in the stewpot but I have big plans for that doe!"

Bee-Bo inhaled another long draw of the rolled burning grass he held in his hand. Slowly he blew out the smoke ring and skipped gleefully out of the graveyard unnoticed by the two mourners.

"I deserve a special treat!" Bee-Bo said to himself pleased that Cody Schroder no longer existed.

He knew what he had in mind and he knew where to find his pleasure.