Uptown Thief Read Online Free PDF Page B

empty street. Every car was perfectly covered in white. “He has guys on his payroll who follow us sometimes.”
    Marisol knew the risk the girl would be taking to go to the clinic. Still, if she could just get her into the building, she could protect her.
    â€œJerry was right,” the girl said. She was on her feet now, unsteady on the torn platform boots, and still wrapped in a hospital sheet. “I really—” She took two steps, wavered, collapsed against the doorway, and threw up into the snow.
    â€œI’m taking you in,” Marisol said. She put her arm around the girl, half-carrying her down the block to the clinic.
    The girl stumbled along. Marisol unlocked the door. She turned on the lamp next to one of the couches.
    In the dim light, the lobby would have looked like a living room, if not for the large reception desk and the vending machines under the stairwell. The room was filled with comfy couches and reclining chairs. A large flat-screen TV sat against the far wall, and beside it was a shelf filled with books, magazines, and board games.
    The clinic was a former storefront that had sold tobacco, and whenever Marisol leaned against the walls, she detected the faint smell of sweet pipe smoke. In the rear of the lobby, a security door opened up to a stairwell. The upper floors had mostly been converted from apartments to clinic offices.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Marisol asked.
    â€œDulce.”
    â€œDulce, I’m admitting you to the shelter for the night. You’ll have an intake appointment in the morning. Wait here.” Marisol gestured toward the couch. Dulce collapsed onto it.
    â€œWhat if they won’t let me in?” Dulce asked.
    â€œI’m the executive director,” Marisol said. “I say who comes in.”
    She scanned her ID card and opened the door to the stairwell. She ran up the stairs, the oversized bag filled with stolen cash bumping against her hip.
    On the second floor, Marisol saw a strip of light coming from under one of the doors. She knocked, and Dr. Eva Feldman let her in.
    Marisol walked into the office and hugged her co-director. Eva was in her early sixties, her body thick and solid.
    â€œThree more light bulbs blew out today,” Eva said, shutting the door behind Marisol.
    â€œI know,” Marisol said. “They’re defective.”
    â€œDefective? They’re black market,” Eva said. “You got ripped off.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t,” Marisol insisted. “The guy made good and sent ten replacement cases. It was still a great deal.”
    â€œNot if you factor in staff time replacing bulbs,” Eva said. She leaned her cane against the wall and sat down at her desk. Childhood polio had rendered her left leg weak and unstable.
    The long, rectangular office had a split personality. On the administrative side, the desk overflowed with papers and books. The therapy side was open and peaceful, with two chairs, a couch, and a Zen sand garden on the table.
    â€œI’m not here to debate supply issues,” Marisol said. “I’ve got a late admit for the shelter.”
    â€œSorry,” Eva said. “We’re full.”
    â€œPut her on the floor if you have to,” Marisol said with a shrug. “We have sleeping bags.”
    â€œThe floor is full, too,” Eva said.
    â€œNo problem.” Marisol began to pull cushions off the couch. “We can make a bed for her in the hallway.”
    â€œWe can’t,” Eva said, standing up. “Another citation from the fire marshal would finish us.” She picked up her cane and walked over to Marisol.
    â€œA surprise inspection is a chance we have to take,” Marisol said. She balanced the pile of pillows against her hip.
    â€œYou need to stop,” Eva said. She put a hand on Marisol’s arm. “I know you’re coming in from a job, full of adrenaline. You feel invincible, but the clinic is much