The summer of nineteen ninety-four was hot and heavy in Atlanta, Georgia. Deep beneath the city, in the B-two level morgue of Grady Memorial Hospital, the air was thick with something more than just the strain of an epidemic. Over the course of eighty-nine days, a chilling pattern emerged. Five bodies vanished.
They were all men, aged between forty and sixty. Each was a John Doe, with no famil...
