I stood in the driveway for five seconds, looking at the quiet front windows, before reaching under the front bumper to pull the magnetic spare key box off the frame.

By seven forty-five, the heater in the silver Honda was finally blowing warm air through the vents as I pulled into the St.

Jude Community Hospital parking deck.

Marcus Vance was waiting in the main lobby on the lower floor, sitting on a high-backed vinyl bench near the gift shop display.

He had three yellow legal pads lined up perfectly on his knees, his pen resting beside a blue manila folder.

I sat on the edge of the bench next to him and laid the forged Against Medical Advice form right on his yellow pad.