The Last Attempt

By Kaleena Clayheart

From the moment they met, Diana knew she and Tom were hopelessly In love. Why did her grandmother hate him? What other evil forces were at work to tear them apart, and turn their own private heaven into a terrifying, devastating hell?
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mystery Press Corp.
• Release date: Aug 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201403119

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From the moment they met, Diana knew she and Tom were hopelessly In love. Why did her grandmother hate him? What other evil forces were at work to tear them apart, and turn their own private heaven into a terrifying, devastating hell?

I left Harrisburg and drove north toward the Pennsylvania coal regions, it started to rain — a heavy, steady downpour. I switched on the windshield wipers and gripped the wheel tensely, peering at the slippery, winding road, so unfamiliar to me. It was growing dark now, and on every side the mountains loomed — steep, black, barren and forbidding.

So unlike the country I remembered from my childhood, when they were covered with lush greenery in the summer that turned to a glorious riot of color in the fall. But that was long ago, and coming back to the little town of Freedom didn’t promise to be so pleasant, either, under the circumstances.

Only yesterday morning, Dad and I had been enjoying our breakfast in our sunny kitchen, a favorite spot in our comfortable Colonial home in Alexandria, Virginia. Since Mother had died, two years ago, after a long illness, I had always tried to make breakfast a special occasion, as she had.

Dad was a prominent Washington lawyer, and it was the only time we could count on to be together, just as a family, instead of having guests or going to dinner parties.

These muffins are delicious, Diana, Dad exclaimed. And I’ll have another cup of that good coffee. I smiled at his compliments — he always came up with them — but my cooking was one thing I did take pride in.

As we lingered over our coffee, Dad went through his mail. Why, here’s a letter from your Aunt Rose, he said. He opened it, frowning slightly. Aunt Rose wasn’t in the habit of writing letters to us — it had to be something unusual.

His frown deepened as he read it. Oh dear, he said. "It seems your