The bodies begin with a nursery rhyme. A jury foreman is found in a barn, black wool draped across his corpse. A married couple lies broken at the base of a cliff. A court reporter sits frozen at her kitchen table, a spider floating in her bowl . Each murder scene is staged with chilling precision. Each victim served on the trial that let Jennifer Morrison’s husband walk free. Sheriff Shea Callahan thought the nightmare ended when the unstable psychiatrist was arrested. She was wrong. Because the psychiatrist wasn’t the mastermind. Now the real architect has stepped out of the shadows—rewriting his trial in blood and verse. Jurors fall. Court officials die. Anyone who played a role in his acquittal is marked for punishment. And the rhymes are getting closer to home. When Shea finds her own house staged with a twisted childhood rhyme, the message is This was never about random revenge. It was always about her. As the killer circles back to the rhyme where it all began—One, Two, Buckle My Shoe—Shea realizes she’s the final number in his deadly countdown. One, two… He’s coming for you.