What's Inside
Momma Peach had pumpkin pie cooling on the counter, eggnog on her mind, and peace — real, honest-to-goodness peace — for the first time in a long while.
Then the phone rang from jail.
Her great-aunt Rachel, a motorized-wheelchair-riding Georgia firecracker living at a Virginia retirement home, had been charged with murder. Someone strangled a woman in her bed and planted the murder weapon in Aunt Rachel's dresser. The local detective was sympathetic but out of options. The victim's powerful family was already screaming for blood.
Momma Peach didn't hesitate. She grabbed her pocketbook, called Michelle, and hit the snowy road north.
Almond Pines, Virginia was cold, suspicious, and full of people with secrets. Aunt Rachel swore she was framed. Momma Peach believed her — but believing wasn't enough. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to put an innocent old woman behind bars, and that someone was still watching.
The holidays could wait. Family couldn't.