There were too many bodies shoved into the space causing the overwhelmed air conditioning system in the ancient courthouse to groan. Late spring in Pensacola could be warm at times but given the unusual temperature spike for April, it felt more like the midst of summer. Even the oppressive heat couldn't keep the gawkers away today. People were tightly packed into the hard wooden bench seats with even more people crowded around the walls. The air was charged with an electrical energy and a nervous buzz filled the room.

The loud slam of wood on wood echoed through the courthouse as Judge David Rockwell called the room to order. Whispers slowly died out as all attention turned to the eight men and four women sitting quietly in the box to the judge's left.

"In the matter of the state of Florida versus Douglas Beecher McClane, Madam Foreman, has the jury reached a decision?"

The woman, Joselyn Kendrik, stood in front of the seat marked with a black number seven on the back. "Yes, your honor, we have," she said staring resolutely at the judge. Throughout the proceedings, she had been stoic, listening and making the occasional notes on a pad in her lap. Though she was only twenty-three, she had been chosen as foreman because of her ability to keep a cool head, not to mention the pre-law degree she obtained last year. Her ability to explain certain nuisances of the law to the others had been priceless.

Now the bulk of the trial was over. There seemed to be a restless demeanor about her as if she couldn't wait to get it finished. She pressed a piece of folded paper into the bailiff's waiting hand and stood with her fingertips against the bar before her. The paper was delivered to Judge Rockwell who read it then had it returned to her. Clutching the verdict in her fingers, she faced the courtroom and waited as Judge Rockwell made notes on a pad on his desk.

Nervously glancing at the cold, stony countenance of the former school teacher and accused rapist and murderer, Joselyn paled to find those hard hazel eyes boring into her. She had made it a point throughout the proceedings to only glance at him quickly in order to observe his attitude as the grisly details of each heinous act were explained. Throughout it all, he had remained aloof, as if nothing could touch him. Now he stared at her unabashedly. At his side, his attorney leaned over and whispered something into his ear. With a slow wink, McClane turned his baleful gaze back to the judge, breaking their locked stares and freeing her to focus on Judge Rockwell's words as he began to explain the coming procedure and what was expected. Smoothing her fingers over the deep amethyst of her dress, she listened to the judge as he arrived at the verdict portion of his spiel.

One by one, he read the twenty-three charges. Twenty-three heinous acts of horror perpetrated against six victims. Some of the crime scene photographs had been so ghastly, two jurors had become physically ill. The evidence was overwhelming and it only six hours of deliberation to reach the unanimous decision. Guilty.

With the last verdict stated, a loud shout lifted into the air and several reporters rushed out of the courtroom. Judge Rockwell banged his gavel again and the noise dropped. Quickly, he polled the jury to confirm they each agreed with the verdict. Once completed, he turned his gaze to the smirking man whose dead, staring eyes were fixed on Joselyn's face.

"Mr. McClane, you have been found guilty of all twenty-three charges by a jury of your peers. Sentencing will be in three days." He raised his gavel to dismiss the courtroom when Douglas McClane suddenly leaped over the table and threw himself at Joselyn. His momentum was stopped when his chest hit the bar. He stood there, glaring at her horrified face and clenching the wood with his fingers. Leaning forward, he screamed at her, flecks of spittle flying through the air as she drew back in fear.

"Six blooms,

Six goodbyes,

Six voices,

Six sighs.

Six slashes,

Six cries,

Seven strokes,

Seven will die."

Pandemonium broke out as two burly bailiffs grabbed Douglas McClane's arms, yanking him away from the juror's box and down to the floor on his stomach. As the judge banged his gavel in an attempt to regain control of the situation, cuffs were produced and placed on the newly convicted criminal’s wrists. Pulling him upright again, the bailiffs and two sheriff's deputies dragged him toward the door.

Joselyn sat in stunned silence, her face a pale ghostly white in stark contrast to her vibrant purple dress. Her fist still clutched the piece of folded paper as she watched them manhandle McClane through the door. The jury was dismissed and the judge disappeared through a different door but she didn't move. In her mind, McClane's final shrill words assaulted her as he was removed from the room.

"I'll see you soon, Little Rose. My garden still needs tending."