The Washington Post, July 31st, 1994
ONE JULY morning in 1993, Patricia Cornwell made the trip to Knoxville to visit a research facility criminologists call "the body farm." It was one of those suffocating days when air hangs over Tennessee as uncertainly as a feather over a furnace. "I was driving along with the windows down, trying to find some air to breathe. As I approached the place, it hit me. The smell. It drifted toward me over the fence." The place stores corpses - 44 of them to be exact - in every state of decay: curled around steering wheels, impaled on stakes, left to sizzle in the sun. The point was to study the ever...
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