On an Autumn Evening in Manhattan, Fifty Million Dollars Signed Away Eleven Long Years
Jude Clinic let out onto a narrow alley behind the main parking garage.
Dr.
Marcus Vance stood by the gray steel delivery door in a dark raincoat over his blue hospital scrubs.
He cleared his throat before he said anything to me.
“I can’t talk to you inside the main building, Vivian,” he said quietly.
“Has Rosalind called you again?” I asked.
“Rosalind Aldridge doesn’t make phone calls herself,” Dr.
Vance said, keeping his eyes on the wet pavement.
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