The Bone Thief: A Body Farm Novel-5 - Plot & Excerpts
I was lecturing, as part of a series called Smithsonian Saturdays, to three hundred people who’d given up a weekend afternoon—and given up fifty bucks apiece—to sit in a windowless underground auditorium and view slides of decaying corpses, bullet-riddled skulls, and incinerated skeletons. I’d had a disappointing lunch meeting with Ed Ulrich, my former student. Actually, the lunch was great—we sampled a tasty variety of Native American dishes at the Museum of the American Indian—but the meeting was discouraging. Ed had sympathized with my funding plight, but his own program at the Smithsonian was confronting painful budget cuts, too, so he had no research money to funnel to his alma mater. Deflated by the bad news, I’d gotten off to a slow start in my talk, but by the time I reached the slide of the rib, my energy was as focused as the laser pointer. “That little notch in the rib is a cut mark made by a knife,” I told the audience. Clicking the projector’s remote, I advanced to the next slide, a close-up of the notch.
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