4.2
-
10,889 ratings
A New York Times and USA Today bestseller
From New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Marriage and You Shouldn't Have Come Here comes a chilling family thriller about the (sometimes literal) skeletons in the closet.
After their mother passes, three estranged siblings reunite to sort out her estate. Beth, the oldest, never left home. She stayed with her mom, caring for her until the very end. Nicole, the middle child, has been kept at arm's length due to her ongoing battle with a serious drug addiction. Michael, the youngest, lives out of state and hasn't been back to their small Wisconsin town since their father ran out on them seven years before.
While going through their parent's belongings, the siblings stumble upon a collection of home videos and decide to revisit those happier memories. However, the nostalgia is cut short when one of the VHS tapes reveals a night back in 1999 that none of them have any recollection of. On screen, their father appears covered in blood. What follows is a dead body and a pact between their parents to get rid of it, before the video abruptly ends.
Beth, Nicole, and Michael must now decide whether to leave the past in the past or uncover the dark secret their mother took to her grave.
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ISBN-13
979-8212182843
Print length
256 pages
Language
English
Publisher
Blackstone Publishing
Publication date
April 29, 2024
Dimensions
6.5 x 1.25 x 9.25 inches
Item weight
1.15 pounds
Death reminds us that life isn’t infinite and that one day, our time will come too.
Highlighted by 986 Kindle readers
As we age, we shed layers of ourselves, disintegrating like any other organic material, but some of us just break down faster than others.
Highlighted by 891 Kindle readers
She told me flowers reminded her of life—beautiful, delicate, and short-lived.
Highlighted by 742 Kindle readers
ASIN :
B0CCK2BCRT
File size :
1319 KB
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Enabled
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Supported
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"Shockingly clever! Jeneva Rose plumbs the depths of how well we know the people we love to new and terrifying effects. Will grip you till the climactic end." --Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author
"With atmospheric prose and a propulsive plot, Home Is Where the Bodies Are is an emotionally charged, twisty, and haunting thriller you won't soon forget." --Lisa Jewell, #1 New York Times bestselling author of None of This Is True
"A dark and twisty take on grief, sibling rivalry, and the bodies, quite literally, buried in one family's past, Home Is Where the Bodies Are is a wild ride filled with 90s nostalgia and knife-sharp observations that will make readers wonder just how well they know their own parents." --Stacy Willingham, New York Times bestselling author of Only if You're Lucky
"A gripping tale of buried secrets penned by one of the best. Plenty of lies, and plenty of sinister videotapes." --Peter Swanson, New York Times bestselling author of The Kind Worth Killing
"Answers are hard to come by in this twisting tale designed to trick and delight." --Kirkus Reviews
"Home is Where the Bodies Are is a master thriller writer's deliciously f*cked-up answer to The Inheritance Games, pitting three flawed siblings against one another in the wake of their mother's death and shocking will. Only, in true Jeneva Rose fashion, there's a devious, life-changing twist: Mom and Dad may have committed murder, and the family inheritance is actually a legacy of violence that threatens to ensnare the siblings for good. Sharp writing, a breakneck pace, and a surprisingly tender heart make this story of familial loyalty, grief, and murder impossible to put down." --Ashley Winstead, author of Midnight Is the Darkest Hour
"Home Is Where the Bodies Are by Jeneva Rose is a tense and harrowing story of family tragedy, lifelong secrets, and unresolved childhood jealousies. Rose's deep insight into the complexities of human nature and her gorgeous prose carried me along in a single breathless read. Deeply moving and utterly engaging, readers will love this book!" --Karen Dionne, internationally bestselling author of The Marsh King's Daughter and The Wicked Sister
"Rose demonstrates a formidable command of character...Fans will enjoy the ride." --Publishers Weekly
"Secrets, lies, estranged siblings, and a decades-old mystery that's clambering its way to the surface one victim at a time -- Home Is Where the Bodies Are has it all and then some. This original, fast-paced, flawless thriller had me switching allegiances and theories about who- and whydunit as I frantically turned the pages to get to the truth. Jeneva Rose is a powerhouse of an author, and an exceptionally talented writer. Sign me up for whatever she comes up with next!" --Hannah Mary McKinnon, internationally bestselling author of The Revenge List
"Home Is Where the Bodies Are is fast-paced and propulsive with characters you truly empathize with and an ending so surprising and satisfying, you'll immediately recommend this book to all of your friends. This is Jeneva Rose at her best." --Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of Local Woman Missing and Just the Nicest Couple
"It's an odd feeling to read something that feels so nostalgic and relatable yet still surprises you at the turn of every page. Home Is Where the Bodies Are is fast-paced and fresh and will have you rushing to your parents' attic to unearth your own dark family secrets.” --Ashley Flowers, #1 New York Times bestselling author of All Good People Here
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ONE
BETH
The rain falls differently today, not soft, not hard, not sideways, just different. As though it’s preparing my mother’s final resting place, saturating the ground where she will soon lie. The hospice nurse said she’ll pass by the end of the day. It’s odd. Some people never see it coming, others have a countdown, and I don’t know which is worse.
I stare out the kitchen window, which overlooks five acres of property, a mix of trees, hills, flat grassy land, and a creek that cuts through it all. My parents purchased the land from a farmer back in the late seventies and had a home built here shortly after. It was their little slice of paradise—until it wasn’t.
My phone buzzes. A text from my brother. His flight has landed, and he’ll be home in under an hour. Home? He stopped visiting seven years ago, when our father disappeared. So, I wouldn’t call our small Wisconsin town his home. Only one hundred and seventy-four people can call it that, but not him. Most people who leave the Grove don’t come back. And those that do never return because they want to. It’s kind of like a cemetery in that way.
I flick to the text I sent my sister hours ago. It’s unread. She’s probably strung out in some motel, a needle wedged between her toes because her veins collapsed long before she caught up with that high she’s been chasing all her life. I let out a heavy sigh at the mere thought of my sister. Addiction is exhausting for both the users and the ones they use.
I pull a loaf of white bread from the cupboard and slather a heavy helping of mayo on two slices. A bowl of round and supple beefsteak tomatoes, plucked from the garden, sits beside the sink. I place the ripest one on the worn cutting board. Tomato water seeps from the flesh as my knife slides through it. I’m not sure why I’m even making Mom a tomato-mayo sandwich. She hasn’t eaten anything in days but it’s her favorite, she says. She grew up dirt-poor, so her favorites are her favorites because she hasn’t experienced anything better. I always wanted to do more for her, to show her a world outside of the Grove—but I never got out either.
“Eliza . . . beth,” my mother calls softly from the living room. She says my name the same way she consumes her Werther’s candies: slowly, deliberately. It’s like she’s savoring it. My shoulders drop, sinking to a place familiar to those who have faced defeat. I know I’ll never hear her say it again—my name, the one she gave me. I wish I could reach out and grab it, stow it away in a safe place, like some sort of family heirloom. But it belongs to this moment. Like her, it’s not something I can keep forever. I take a deep breath and release the knife from my hand. It thuds against the cutting board. It’s time to say my final goodbye.
The clock on the wall reads just after eight p.m. My siblings most likely won’t make it in time. Then again, they’ve had all the time in the world to be here with her, and they chose not to. So, perhaps they don’t deserve it. Death waits for no one. “Coming, Mom.” I force the corners of my lips up a few clicks before leaving the kitchen. All she ever wanted was to see her children happy—I can do that for her, even if it’s not true.
The living room was converted into her bedroom three months ago. She wanted it that way, wanted to be able to look out the big bay window and watch the sun set. Mom worked second shift most of her life, so she said it was the one thing she felt she missed out on.
A television sits in the corner, muted, with a car dealership commercial playing on the screen. Most of my mom’s belongings are floral print: the blanket covering her, the couch that has been pushed to the far wall, and the decorative pillows placed on either end. There are even pictures of flowers hung in frames behind her hospice bed. She told me flowers reminded her of life—beautiful, delicate, and short-lived.
Her bed sits propped up, and she’s looking out the window.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. My voice nearly croaks but I swallow the sadness. I’ll break that dam later, but not now, not in front of her.
She lifts her hand shakily an inch above her lap and lets it fall back into place. She doesn’t have the strength to say it, but I can hear her words, Come watch the sunset, Beth.
“Okay, Mom.”
I take a seat in the chair beside her bed. It’s molded to my behind, from all the hours I’ve sat with her over the past few months. She got real bad seven weeks ago, so I took FMLA leave from my job at the warehouse to care for her around the clock. Mom would have had more time, but she’s a stubborn woman who visits the doctor about as often as one visits the DMV. By the time they caught the cancer, it was far too advanced, having spread to her liver and bloodstream.
She wiggles her thin fingers, and I reach for them, gently holding her hand. The rain has stopped temporarily. The clouds part and the sky shifts to a perfect blue, layered with hues of pink and orange from the setting sun.
“It’s beautiful, Mom,” I say, glancing over at her.
Her graying skin is like the bark of a tree, deep creases from a lifetime of stress and grief. She embraces them, though. She always has, proudly saying, “The wrinklier the skin, the harder the life.” It’s a badge of honor for her, evidence of her hardships.
Her chest barely rises and falls. I watch it closely just to be sure she’s still breathing. She keeps her eyes on the setting sun, and I can hear what she said to me a week ago, before it became too difficult for her to utter more than a word or two. There’s not many things you can count on in life, but that . . . is one thing you can count on. It will rise and it will fall—no matter what. Don’t matter if you’re sick or sad. Don’t matter if there is war or there is peace. Don’t matter if you see it or you don’t. That sun. You can count on it.
Even in her dying days, she’s still trying to teach me, to guide me, to show her love her way—through lessons and words of wisdom. I squeeze her hand gently, so she knows I’m still here. The small pressure seems to push through her body, constricting the very air in her lungs. She begins to wheeze. I dunk a sponge into a glass of water and squeeze the liquid into her partially open mouth. Mom never takes her eyes off the sun. I dab her chapped lips with the damp sponge and sit back down while she catches what little breath she has left.
When the sun finally slips behind the horizon, she cranes her neck toward me. I smile at her, but she doesn’t smile back. I know death is near because even her presence has dulled.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. I’m trying to say Mom as many times as I possibly can because I know I’ll never call another person that again. It’s reserved only for her. There is no replacement. My throat tightens, and I feel my breath hitch like I’m going to experience one of those cries that comes from the deepest place, one that hurts, one you can’t stop, one that makes every part of you quake and tremble. I reach for her hand and hold it again. It feels cold, and I know what that means.
She looks at me or maybe a little above me, I’m not sure. There’s confusion in her eyes. She knew death was coming, but even so, its arrival is always puzzling. It’s like we’re all standing in one big queue waiting for our number to be called, thinking that day won’t arrive—but it will, and it has. She tries to roll her body toward me but she’s too weak, so I lean closer to her. With only a foot between us, I notice her breathing changes from slow and shallow to rapid. It’s almost here, and there are so many things I want to tell her. But I know it would take a lifetime to say them all, so I try to get out what I can.
“I love you, Mom. Thank you for having me, for raising me, for loving me, for being like the sun . . . the one thing I could always count on.” My voice trembles. It’s not at all how I wanted to say it. My face crumples and instantly becomes wet, the dam bursting open all at once. Her eyes flicker with realization or something like it.
“Your father . . .” she gasps.
I lean a little closer. “What, Mom? What about Dad?”
“He didn’t . . .” She tries to suck in more air, so she can get the words out . . . words that must have been living inside of her. Had they been tangled up with the cancer and that’s why she’s only able to speak them now?
“Dis . . . appear,” she stammers.
I blink rapidly, like I’m trying to wake myself from a bad dream.
“Mom, what are you trying to say? If he didn’t disappear, where is he?” My voice rattles. I don’t understand any of it.
“Don’t,” she says. Her eyes close for a moment, and I think she’s gone. But they reopen just as quickly as they closed. “Trust,” she gasps.
“Mom! I don’t understand. Where’s Dad?” I cry out.
She exhales, trying to finish her final words, but nothing more comes out, save for her last breath. Her cold hand goes limp in mine. It’s true what they say about the lights going out when a person passes. Her eyes sit still and dark. Her mouth hangs partially open.
She’s gone.
She’s gone.
I let out a painful sob while her final words string together in my mind.
Your father. He didn’t disappear. Don’t trust . . .
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Jeneva Rose
Jeneva Rose is the New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Marriage, The Girl I Was, One of Us is Dead, You Shouldn't Have Come Here, and the Kimberley King series. Her work has been optioned for film/tv and translated into more than two dozen languages. Originally from Wisconsin, she currently lives in Chicago with her husband and her stubborn English bulldog. You can connect with her on Instagram @jenevaroseauthor, Tiktok @jenevaroseauthor, Twitter @jenevarosebooks, Facebook Jeneva Rose, or via her website.
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Customer reviews
4.2 out of 5
10,889 global ratings
Samantha
5
Great Read
Reviewed in the United States on June 3, 2024
Verified Purchase
After the passing of their mother, Beth, Nicole and Michael gathered together in their childhood home with the goal of putting her mother to rest. In an attempt to reminisce on some of their past memories of their happy childhood they uncover that not everything is as it had seemed. When the happy home video from the summer of ’99 cuts off to show their father covered in blood and a body on the screen. They have to make the decision to uncover the truth or leave it buried in the past.
This book was so well written had me working hard to solve the mystery before it was revealed in the end. While this is a suspenseful thriller it is also a story of overcoming grief, hurt, addiction, and complicated sibling relationships. I spent a majority of my time reading this being frustrated with the characters until it clicked that some of the topics addressed in this book hits really close to home for me. I found myself identifying with Beth in regards to her situation as being the caregiver of a parent who is dying, and how watching a parent pass away is something that chips away at you. I emphasized with her struggling relationship with Nicole and the emotional toll it takes on someone with a sibling with an addiction. I found myself wishing for them to have the happy ending that we did not have, which is not something I thought I would find my self doing with reading a thriller novel. 10/10 would read again.
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Pamela
5
Wasn't expecting that
Reviewed in the United States on July 29, 2024
Verified Purchase
What a great book. All I can say is I don't know how I would feel if it was my child in this situation. But in the end they did what they felt was right. I was totally thinking the dad did it or Lucas but man was I Wrong. I'm glad Nicole got stronger and stayed sober. Beth deserved to be happy after all she went thru during her life. I would definitely recommend this book to my friends.
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Amazon Customer
5
Gives a whole new meaning to ‘anything for family’ …
Reviewed in the United States on July 9, 2024
Verified Purchase
Another recommendation from a mystery loving friend to a non-mystery reader (myself) that kept me on the edge of my seat! All characters were relatable right from the get-go and so I was easily and quickly invested in what their life had consisted of to the point where the book began. I kept guessing on what happened and who committed the crimes to only be wrong! In a good way of course, the plot twists caught me widening my eyes and shaking my head involuntarily as my husband sat beside me..he wanted to know too what happened with that sort of reaction from me, haha! Would I recommend this? Oh yes yes very much so! In my personal opinion, it is a great quick read and I might even keep a physical copy among my home videos just for funsies..
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Ana Perez
5
great read
Reviewed in the United States on July 22, 2024
Verified Purchase
Great read. Very well written. I enjoyed the plot. It was a perfect blend of drama and thriller. Would like more from this author
Amazon Customer
5
Gives a whole new meaning to ‘anything for family’ …
Reviewed in the United States on July 9, 2024
Verified Purchase
Another recommendation from a mystery loving friend to a non-mystery reader (myself) that kept me on the edge of my seat! All characters were relatable right from the get-go and so I was easily and quickly invested in what their life had consisted of to the point where the book began. I kept guessing on what happened and who committed the crimes to only be wrong! In a good way of course, the plot twists caught me widening my eyes and shaking my head involuntarily as my husband sat beside me..he wanted to know too what happened with that sort of reaction from me, haha! Would I recommend this? Oh yes yes very much so! In my personal opinion, it is a great quick read and I might even keep a physical copy among my home videos just for funsies..
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