Present day: Julia Hamill has made a horrifying discovery on the grounds of her new home in rural Massachusetts: a skull buried in the rocky soil–human, female, and, according to the trained eye of Boston medical examiner Maura Isles, scarred with the unmistakable marks of murder. But whoever this nameless woman was, and whatever befell her, is knowledge lost to another time. . . .
Boston, 1830: In order to pay for his education, Norris Marshall, a talented but penniless student at Boston Medical College, has joined the ranks of local “resurrectionists”–those who plunder graveyards and harvest the dead for sale on the black market. Yet even this ghoulish commerce pales beside the shocking murder of a nurse found mutilated on the university hospital grounds. And when a distinguished doctor meets the same grisly fate, Norris finds that trafficking in the illicit cadaver trade has made him a prime suspect.
To prove his innocence, Norris must track down the only witness to have glimpsed the killer: Rose Connolly, a beautiful seamstress from the Boston slums who fears she may be the next victim. Joined by a sardonic, keenly intelligent young man named Oliver Wendell Holmes, Norris and Rose comb the city–from its grim cemeteries and autopsy suites to its glittering mansions and centers of Brahmin power–on the trail of a maniacal fiend who lurks where least expected . . . and who waits for his next lethal opportunity.
With unflagging suspense and pitch-perfect period detail, The Bone Garden deftly interweaves the thrilling narratives of its nineteenth- and twenty-first century protagonists, tracing the dark mystery at its heart across time and place to a finale as ingeniously conceived as it is shocking. Bold, bloody, and brilliant, this is Tess Gerritsen’s finest achievement to date.
"An old mystery is crossed with a modern story in the latest from Gerritsen (The Mephisto Club, 2006, etc.).Julia Hamill, newly divorced and still smarting, purchases an old house outside Boston. Determined to dig a garden, she instead finds the bones of a long-dead woman–the apparent victim of murder–which starts her on a journey to ferret out the story behind her death. Julia connects with Henry, a no-nonsense 89-year-old with boxes of documents that once belonged to the now-deceased previous owner of Julia’s home. The two discover a mystery dating back to the 1830s. At the heart of it is a baby named Meggie, born to the beautiful but doomed Irish chambermaid, Aurnia. Married to a man who cares nothing for her, Aurnia lays dying in a maternity ward with her sister, Rose, at her side. Rose, a spirited 17-year-old, takes Meggie to protect her from Aurnia’s husband, but soon finds herself the target of a bizarre manhunt. Someone is after the child–and Rose, as well, because she witnessed a horrifying murder. The body count piles up as Rose struggles to remain free of those who would take Meggie from her. Meanwhile, a young medical student becomes the chief suspect of the West End Reaper killings when he stumbles onto another terrible homicide. Although he fights the prospect, eventually he and Rose join forces to solve the murders and protect the baby at the heart of the mysterious deaths. Readers with delicate stomachs may find Gerritsen’s graphic descriptions of corpse dissection hard to take, but the story, which digs up a dark Boston of times long past, entices readers to keep turning pages long after their bedtimes."
- Kirkus Reviews (starred)
From the Hardcover edition.
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About the Author
From the Hardcover edition.
Read an Excerpt
So this is how a marriage ends, thought Julia Hamill as she rammed the shovel into the soil. Not with sweet whispers goodbye, not with the loving clasp of arthritic hands forty years from now, not with children and grandchildren grieving around her hospital bed. She lifted a scoop of earth and flung it aside, sending rocks clattering onto the growing mound. It was all clay and stones, good for growing nothing except blackberry canes. Barren soil, like her marriage, from which nothing long lasting, nothing worth holding on to, had sprouted.
She stamped down on the shovel and heard a clang, felt the concussion slam up her spine as the blade hit a rock—a big one. She repositioned the blade, but even when she attacked the rock at different angles, she could not pry it loose. Demoralized and sweating in the heat, she stared down at the hole. All morning she had been digging like a woman possessed, and beneath her leather gloves blisters were peeled open. Julia’s digging had stirred up a cloud of mosquitoes that whined around her face and infiltrated her hair.
There was no way around it: If she wanted to plant a garden in this spot, if she wanted to transform this weed-choked yard, she had to keep at it. This rock was in her way.
Suddenly the task seemed hopeless, beyond her puny efforts. She dropped the shovel and slumped to the ground, rump landing on the stony pile of dirt. Why had she ever thought she could restore this garden, salvage this house? She looked across the tangle of weeds and stared at the sagging porch, the weathered clapboards. Julia’s Folly— that’s what she should name the place. Bought when she hadn’t been thinking straight, when her life was collapsing. Why not add more flotsam to the wreckage? This was to be a consolation prize for surviving her divorce. At thirty-eight years old, Julia would finally have a house in her own name, a house with a past, a soul. When she had first walked through the rooms with the real estate agent, and had gazed at the hand-hewn beams, spied the bit of antique wallpaper peeking through a tear in the many layers that had since covered it, she’d known this house was special. And it had called to her, asking for her help.
“The location’s unbeatable,” the agent had said. “It comes with nearly an acre of land, something you seldom find anymore this close to Boston.”
“Then why is it still for sale?” Julia had asked.
“You can see what bad shape it’s in. When we first got the listing, there were boxes and boxes of books and old papers, stacked to the ceiling. It took a month for the heirs to haul it all away. Obviously, it needs bottom-up renovations, right down to the foundation.”
“Well, I like the fact that it has an interesting past. It wouldn’t put me off buying it.”
The agent hesitated. “There’s another issue I should tell you about. Full disclosure.”
“The previous owner was a woman in her nineties, and—well, she died here. That makes some buyers a bit squeamish.”
“In her nineties? Of natural causes, then?”
“That’s the assumption.”
Julia had frowned. “They don’t know?”
“It was summertime. And it took almost three weeks before one of her relatives discovered . . .” The agent’s voice trailed off. Suddenly she brightened. “But hey, the land alone is special. You could tear down this whole place. Get rid of it and start fresh!”
The way the world gets rid of old wives like me, Julia had thought. This splendid, dilapidated house and I both deserve better.
That same afternoon, Julia had signed the purchase agreement.
Now, as she slumped on the mound of dirt, slapping at mosquitoes, she thought: What did I get myself into? If Richard ever saw this wreck, it would only confirm what he already thought of her. Gullible Julia, putty in a Realtor’s hands. Proud owner of a junk heap.
She swiped a hand over her eyes, smearing sweat across her cheek. Then she looked down at the hole again. How could she possibly expect to get her life in order when she couldn’t even summon the strength to move one stupid rock?
She picked up a trowel and, leaning into the hole, began to scrape away dirt. More of the rock emerged, like an iceberg’s tip whose hidden bulk she could only guess at. Maybe big enough to sink the Titanic. She kept digging, deeper and deeper, heedless of the mosquitoes and the sun glaring on her bare head. Suddenly the rock symbolized every obstacle, every challenge that she’d ever wobbled away from.
I will not let you defeat me.
With the trowel, she hacked at the soil beneath the rock, trying to free up enough space to pry the shovel underneath it. Her hair slid into her face, strands clinging to sweaty skin as she reached deeper into the hole, scraping, tunneling. Before Richard saw this place, she’d turn it into a paradise. She had two months before she’d have to face another classroom of third graders. Two months to uproot these weeds, nourish the soil, put in roses. Richard had told her that if she ever planted roses in their Brookline yard, they’d die on her. You need to know what you’re doing, he’d said—just a casual remark, but it had stung nevertheless. She knew what he’d really meant.
You need to know what you’re doing. And you don’t.
She dropped onto her belly and hacked away. Her trowel collided with something solid. Oh, God, not another rock. Shoving back her hair, she stared down at what her tool had just hit. Its metal tip had fractured a surface, and cracks radiated from the impact point. She brushed away dirt and pebbles, exposing an unnaturally smooth dome. Lying belly-down on the ground, she felt her heart thudding against the earth and suddenly found it hard to take a breath. But she kept digging, with both hands now, gloved fingers scraping through stubborn clay. More of the dome emerged, curves knitted together by a jagged seam. Deeper and deeper she clawed, her pulse accelerating as she uncovered a small dirt-filled hollow. She pulled off her glove and prodded the caked earth with a bare finger. Suddenly the dirt fractured and crumbled away.
Julia jerked back onto her knees and stared down at what she had just revealed. The mosquitoes’ whine built to a shriek, but she did not wave them away and was too numb to feel their stings. A breeze feathered the grass, stirring the sweet-syrup smell of Queen Anne’s lace. Julia’s gaze lifted to her weed-ridden property, a place she had hoped to transform into a paradise. She’d imagined a vibrant garden of roses and peonies, an arbor twined with purple clematis. Now when she looked at this yard, she no longer saw a garden.
She saw a graveyard.
“You could have asked for my advice before you bought this shack,” said her sister, Vicky, sitting at Julia’s kitchen table.
Julia stood at the window, staring out at the multiple mounds of dirt that had sprung up like baby volcanoes in her back garden. For the past three days, a crew from the medical examiner’s office had practically camped out in her yard. She was now so accustomed to having them tramp in and out of her house to use the toilet that she’d miss having them around when the excavation was done, and they finally left her alone again, here in this house with its hand-hewn beams and its history. And its ghosts.
Outside, the medical examiner, Dr. Isles, had just arrived and was crossing toward the excavation site. Julia thought her an unsettling sort of woman, neither friendly nor unfriendly, with ghostly pale skin and Goth-black hair. She looks so calm and collected, Julia thought, watching Isles through the window.
“It’s not like you to just jump into something,” said Vicky. “An offer on the first day you saw it? Did you think anyone else would snatch it up?” She pointed to the crooked cellar door. “That doesn’t even shut. Did you check the foundation? This place has got to be a hundred years old.”
“It’s a hundred and thirty,” Julia murmured, her gaze still on the backyard, where Dr. Isles stood at the edge of the excavation hole.
“Oh, honey,” Vicky said, her voice softening. “I know it’s been a tough year for you. I know what you’re going through. I just wish you’d called me before you did something this drastic.”
“It’s not such a bad property,” Julia insisted. “It’s got an acre of land. It’s close to the city.”
“And it’s got a dead body in the backyard. That’ll really help its resale value.”
Julia massaged her neck, which was suddenly knotted with tension. Vicky was right. Vicky was always right. Julia thought: I’ve poured my bank account into this house, and now I’m the proud owner of a cursed property. Through the window, she saw another newcomer arrive on the scene. It was an older woman with short gray hair, dressed in blue jeans and heavy work boots—not the sort of outfit one expected for such a grandmotherly type. Yet one more queer character wandering through her yard today. Who were these people, converging on the dead? Why did they choose such a profession, confronting every day what most people shuddered to even contemplate?
“Did you talk to Richard before you bought it?”
Julia went still. “No, I didn’t talk to him.”
“Have you heard from him at all lately?” Vicky asked. The change in her voice—suddenly quiet, almost hesitant—made Julia at last turn to look at her sister.
“Why are you asking?” said Julia.
“You were married to him. Don’t you call him every so often, just to ask if he’s forwarding your mail or something?”
Julia sank into a chair at the table. “I don’t call him. And he doesn’t call me.”
For a moment Vicky said nothing, just sat in silence as Julia stoically stared down. “I’m sorry,” Vicky finally said. “I’m so sorry you’re still hurting.”
Julia gave a laugh. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry, too.”
“It’s been six months. I thought you’d be over him by now. You’re bright, you’re cute, you should be back in circulation.”
Vicky would say that. Suck-it-up Vicky who, five days after her appendectomy, had charged back into a courtroom to lead her team of attorneys to victory. She wouldn’t let a little setback like divorce trip up her week.
Vicky sighed. “To be honest, I didn’t drive all the way over here just to see the new house. You’re my baby sister, and there’s something you should know. Something you have a right to know. I’m just not sure how to—” She stopped. Looked at the kitchen door, where someone had just knocked.
Julia opened the door to see Dr. Isles, looking coolly composed despite the heat. “I wanted to let you know that my team will be leaving today,” Isles said.
Glancing at the excavation site, Julia saw that people were already packing up their tools. “You’re finished here?”
“We’ve found enough to determine this is not an ME case. I’ve referred it to Dr. Petrie, from Harvard.” Isles pointed to the woman who had just arrived—the granny in the blue jeans.
Vicky joined them in the doorway. “Who’s Dr. Petrie?”
“A forensic anthropologist. She’ll be completing the excavation, purely for research purposes. If you have no objection, Ms. Hamill.”
“So the bones are old?”
“It’s clearly not a recent burial. Why don’t you come out and take a look?”
Vicky and Julia followed Isles down the sloping yard. After three days of digging, the hole had grown to a gaping pit. Laid out on a tarp were the remains.
Though Dr. Petrie had to be at least sixty, she sprang easily to her feet from a squat and came forward to shake their hands. “You’re the homeowner?” she asked Julia.
“I just bought the place. I moved in last week.”
“Lucky you,” Petrie said, and she actually seemed to mean it.
Dr. Isles said, “We sifted a few items from the soil. Some old buttons and a buckle ornament, clearly antique.” She reached into an evidence box sitting beside the bones. “And today, we found this.” She pulled out a small ziplock bag. Through the plastic, Julia saw the glint of multicolored gemstones.
“It’s a regard ring,” said Dr. Petrie. “Acrostic jewelry was quite the rage in the early Victorian era. The names of the stones are meant to spell out a word. A ruby, emerald, and garnet, for instance, would be the first three letters in the word regard. This ring is something you’d give as a token of affection.”
“Are these actually precious stones?”
“Oh, no. They’re probably just colored glass. The ring isn’t engraved— it’s just a mass-produced piece of jewelry.”
“Would there be burial records?”
“I doubt it. This appears to be something of an irregular interment. There’s no gravestone, no coffin fragments. She was simply wrapped in a piece of hide and covered up. A rather unceremonious burial, if she was a loved one.”
“Maybe she was poor.”
“But why choose this particular location? There was never a cemetery here, at least not according to historical maps. Your house is about a hundred thirty years old, am I right?”
“It was built in 1880.”
“Regard rings were out of fashion by the 1840s.”
“What was here before 1840?” Julia asked.
“I believe this was part of a country estate, owned by a prominent Bostonian family. Most of this would have been open pasture. Farmland.”
Julia looked up the slope, where butterflies skimmed across blossoms of Queen Anne’s lace and flowering vetch. She tried to picture her yard as it once must have been. An open field, sloping down to the tree-shaded stream, with grazing sheep meandering through the grass. A place where only animals would wander. A place where a grave would quickly be forgotten.
Vicky stared down at the bones with a look of distaste. “Is this—one body?”
“A complete skeleton,” Petrie said. “She was buried deep enough to be protected from scavenger damage. On this slope, the soil’s quite well drained. Plus, judging by the fragments of leather, it looks like she was wrapped in some kind of animal hide, and the leaching tannins are something of a preservative.”
“Yes.” Petrie looked up, sharp blue eyes narrowed against the sun. “This is a female. Based on dentition and the condition of her vertebrae, she was fairly young, certainly under the age of thirty- five. All in all, she’s in remarkably good shape.” Petrie looked at Julia. “Except for the crack you made with your trowel.”
Julia flushed. “I thought the skull was a rock.”
“It’s not a problem distinguishing between old and new fractures. Look.” Petrie dropped to a squat again and picked up the skull. “The crack you made is right here, and it doesn’t show any staining. But see this crack here, on the parietal bone? And there’s another one here, on the zygomatic bone, under the cheek. These surfaces are stained brown from long exposure to dirt. That tells us these are pre- morbid fractures, not from excavation damage.”
“Pre-morbid?” Julia looked at her. “Are you saying . . .”
“These blows almost certainly caused her death. I would call this a murder.”
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Haven't done one of these before so bear with me. I happened to pick this book up off the discounted book rack at B&N. What a fortutious selection. I am always looking for new authors and now I have found a great one. This book shifts back and forth between the present and the 1800s. Back when the use of cadavers for medical school disection was not in high favor and legally acquired cadavers were in short supply. The story begins with the discovery of a skull in a present day garden and expands from there. Very suspensful with lots of twists and turns to keep you guessing. I highly recommend this book for fans of mystery novels.
A lot different from the normal Tess Gerritsen. History and mystery what a great combination. Lots of plot twists and interesting insights into the period. Interesting insights into Oliver Wendall Holmes Sr. Could not put it down read it straight thru in one sitting.
Absolutely FANTASTIC!!!! I don't write reviews but this book demanded it!! This is her BEST writing to date!!!! LOVED IT!!! Can't wait for her next one!
In Tess' recent work, The Bone Garden, the reader is taken back to Boston 1830 where the state of medicine only adds to Tess' ability to chill you straight to the bone. A masterfully weaved tale that will leave you walking away feeling as though you lived at the time and actually knew the characters. Tess seemingly effortlessly and expertly captures all the theatre and feeling of this period that lends so well to a murder mystery. The tale hooks you from the start and delivers you to a mysterious ending full of twists and turns. Grab hold for this ride and keep the lights on! A landmark delivery of suspense, intrigue, and horror as only Tess can deliver it.
I really enjoyed reading this book. I had a hard time putting it down and have even read it twice since I bought it. The charcters are complex and I loved how the past tied to the future.
My first TG book and NOT my last! I learned so much about medical practices of the last 19th century from this book. I knew nothing about Oliver Wendell Holmes SR!! Our society has come a long way since then. It was fascinating to read and hard to put down. Highly recommended!
I read this book in less than two days and could hardly stop to put it down. I love how I jumped back in time through the pages and I was so entranced by the gruesome nature of the strangely beautiful story. I've never loved the last sentence of the story so much!
Loved this book! I did purchase it without really checking the storyline, because I read every Tess Gerritson book. It was so different and so good. Could not put it down!
A perfect blend of old and new with a complex combination of love, hope, despair and courage. Julia Hamill, recently divorced and angry purchases the former residence of Hilda Chamblett. The old house is in extreme need of repair, similar to Julia¿s own life and she welcomes the house as well as the stories it has to tell. While trying to grow a garden in the rough soil, she comes across the skull of a woman whom was murdered years ago. The bones lead Julia to 89-year-old family Historian Henry Page, uncle to her newly discovered and attractive neighbor Tom Page. As Julia meets with Henry and devours the collection of newspaper articles and letters, she is brought back to Boston in the 1830¿s, and the story of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Norris Marshall, and Rose Connolly. The tragedy, heartbreak, and mystery surrounding the story of the West End Reaper, flow seemly across the pages in rich and vivid detail making connections to the bones from Julia¿s own backyard. The storyline expertly weaves between the past and the present, filling the pages with such detail the reader becomes emotionally attached to the characters and their lives. The similarities in life that stretch across time are conveyed so well that each person will find appeal within The Bone Garden. Tess Gerritsen uses the power of her words and the story she describes to captivate her readers and give them all their monies worth. A worthy read deserving of the highest praises. Valerie Jones
I loved this book...it is thrilling on all levels!
Without a doubt, one of the best books I've read in quite a while. Loved everything about it, and hated for it to end. I've since read The Apprentice, which was also good, but I loved this one more. I'm eagerly awaiting her next novel.
This is my all time favorite book now. I was sad when I finished it because I wanted the story to keep going. I loved the back and forth between present and the past. Highly recommend it for someone not too squeamish as some of the descriptions were very vivid.
I started reading Tess's books a year or so ago. I absolutely LOVE them. This one, I believe, is my favorite. A timeless weaving of past and present, one can get lost in the pages. Beautifully written about love, courage, tragedy and hope. I recommend anyone to read her books, she is truly talented.
When I first read the synopses, 'a novel that crosses centuries' with the mundane 'bone garden' as the title, if it had been anyone other than Tess Garritson I wouldn't have picked it up. I am so glad I did! I have yet to read a better inside depiction of the state of the Irish immigrants, and when I think of all of those women suffering from lack of knowledge from male doctors just not washing their hands to check pregnancies. I felt I was there. The back drop felt authentic, the cold, the poverty, the lack of dignity. I am clenching my teeth as I write this. The book was as thrilling as ever, and for this Scots/Irish woman (me) I felt particularly drawn and quartered, yet healed also in some way by knowing a bit more of my sister's lives here. Could not put this book down!
This book was wondeful. When I finished listening to it, I was so caught up in the beautiful story that I could not listen to another story for a week. I had no idea that my favorite mysery writer was also a wonderfully talented writer of another types of fiction.
I love all of her books. This one is no exception. I couldn't put it down. I finished it last night and haven't stopped thinking about it. This book has a great meaning to it. That the past should never be forgotten and how every generation really does effect us.
A fabulous read - historical fiction with twists and turns everywhere. It was great!
I could not put this book down and read it in one sitting. It is excellent. I was lucky enough to attend a recent reading by the author,if you have the chance don't miss it! She made the book sound so good I moved it to the top of my 'pile' and was really glad I did. I had only read one other book by Tess Gerritsen and really liked it, 'The Mephisto Club', and bought quite a few more that night. I can't wait to read the rest of them. The story moves seamlessly between today and 1830 in Boston, MA, and both stories are fascinating. I can't recommend this book enough!!
WOW! I picked this book up @ 8 PM and finished, never once putting it down, until 3 AM. This is my first Gerritsen Novel and be certain, after writing this review, I'll order ALL of her novels! Finding a book that urges you, almost hypnotizes you, to turn page after page after page in one sitting takes the tedium and boredom of traveling for your profession that much easier to handle. I'll actually read this novel again in a few short months when new releases are limited and books worth reading are not found during my travels...
At first I picked up this book because it was a new Tess Gerritsen title, sight unseen I just knew that I liked all of her other books. So when I read the inside jacket when I got the book home I was disappointed that it was a historical novel, which I tend to stay away from, but I thought I give it a chance. I loved it the way the past and present were written was fantastic. I spent a great weekend reading this book and enjoyed every minute of it.
I really liked this author and I was eagerly anticipating this new book. I was very pleasantly surprised. This is not the Surgeon or the Apprentice, but something much fuller (for lack of a better word). She is a good storyteller. I am so glad I just bought the book based on the author, I was not disappointed. You won't be disappointed, either.
This was one of those books that you wish would just keep going. I very much enjoyed the split story. (think 'Fried Green Tomatoes') This is one of Ms. Gerritson's best books to date. The timing could not have been better as to dealing with some of the medical issues that we deal with today. (staph infections that do not respond to any treatment other than good handwashing techniques to begin with) Keep it up!!!
This book was amazing. It kept me glued to its pages. It's set in the 1800's where doctors are doing all sorts of stupid things like draining patients' blood to lessen pain. The story line was quick, detail, and breath-taking. I loved the main character Rose and the twists in the plots. You wont be dissapointed. PLEASE NOTE: SHe is very graphic so don't read this book while eating.
What a wonderful love story, a glimpse into the past. Tess is an outstanding writer, I have enjoyed many of her books and 'the bone garden' is in the top 5. Don¿t hesitate to pick it up!!
The first book I read by Tess Gerritsen was Body Double. When I first saw the book and thought, 'Maybe I should give the author a try at thrilling me at her expertise in writing a thriller.' It's was a good thing I did. I love the character Dr. Maura Isles, the medical examiner is the best. She is almost has a similar personality as I do, expect I'm not studying in the medical. A lovely author and writes in great detail when describing her characters, their situations, and the crime scenes. I can't wait to read The Bone Garden, it sounds 'bone-chilling'!