Forget to Remember Page 2

  Getting up his courage, he walked to the doorway and knocked on the door. She looked up from the chair she was sitting in and smiled.

  “You must be Rigo. Come in.”

  Rigo smiled back. She didn’t look half as bad as he thought she would. There were still a couple of small bandages on her face. Her head had been shaved in several places, and dressings applied to her wounds. However, her innate beauty shone through. Her skin was a shade darker than his. She was wearing a robe that was too large over her hospital gown.

  Before he could say anything, she stood up and gave him a bear hug. “My savior.”

  Now Rigo was embarrassed. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “If you hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.”

  Rigo wondered what would have happened to her if he’d put the garbage in the other Dumpster. Or hadn’t seen her and tossed the bag on top of her. Or what if she’d been placed in the Dumpster on any other night except Saturday? Sunday was the only day the restaurant opened before dinner. Confusing and terrifying dreams disturbed his sleep.

  She released him and motioned toward a second chair. “Sit down, Rigo. I’m Carol, by the way. Carol Golden.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Andrea said.”

  “Of course, that’s not my real name. I don’t know my real name.”

  This was awkward. Something welled up inside Rigo, and he didn’t know what to say. “How do you feel?”

  “Much better. Of course, anything would be better than how you found me. Although I look a mess, my head and face are healing. So are my bites and the bruises on my body. I have one scar on my abdomen the doctor said is old.”

  “Appendicitis?”

  “The doctor said no. He said it looked as if I’d been cut with a sharp object.”

  Rigo was still having trouble finding words. “When are you getting out of here?”

  “Tomorrow.” Carol brightened, but then her smile faded. “Tomorrow,” she repeated, more softly.

  “Where will you go?”

  “That’s the problem. I have nowhere to go. I think they’re going to send me to a homeless shelter in Los Angeles somewhere.”

  “They…?”

  “The people from Los Angeles County.” She attempted another smile. “I’m still confused between Los Angeles County and Los Angeles City.” She picked up a map sitting on the table beside her. “One of the nurses was nice enough to give me this map. It shows where everything is, including Torrance and Palos Verdes. I think this shelter is about twenty miles from here. Los Angeles is a big place.”

  “So these people making the decisions work for Los Angeles County?”

  “Yes, most of them. Not the doctors and nurses here, although the county may be paying for my care. I feel a little guilty about that. But I’ve received great care. They think I’m in my mid twenties. I even had a gynecological exam.”

  Rigo must have made a face, because Carol said, “Just be thankful you’re a man and don’t have to have them. The doc said I’ve never had a baby. At least I don’t have to worry that I’m deserting a child. He didn’t go so far as to say I’m a virgin.” She looked mischievous. “I wouldn’t have believed him if he had.”

  Rigo decided he’d better not comment. “Who have you talked to from Los Angeles County?”

  “I’ve talked to Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputies, a Los Angeles County social worker, a Los Angeles County psychiatrist. He said he didn’t think I was crazy, by the way. Nice of him. I just have amnesia. He didn’t know when I might get my memory back.”

  A young woman dressed in a light green top and pants came bustling in. “Time to take your vitals, Carol.” She started to take Carol’s blood pressure. Rigo got up, but she said, “Sit still, sir. This’ll just take a minute.”

  Blood pressure, pulse, temperature. Then she left as fast as she had entered.

  “It’s hard to get any sleep around here.” Carol gestured toward the vanishing figure. “They do this all night long. I’ll be glad to leave.”

  What did she have to look forward to? “Can you get a job?”

  Carol shook her head. “This was explained to me by Andrea, the social worker. I don’t have a birth certificate, so I can’t get a Social Security card. Without a Social Security card I can’t get a job. I also can’t get a driver’s license although I’m sure I know how to drive. I can’t apply for any kind of assistance. I think that as of tomorrow, Los Angeles County’s going to wash its hands of me. Officially, as far as the county, and I guess any state and the federal government, are concerned, I’m a non-person.”

  CHAPTER 3

  That night Rigo worked late at the restaurant. When he got home, he went to bed, too tired to even watch TV. He awoke several hours later with an unease that was close to panic. His heart raced like it did when he had a nightmare. It took him a minute to figure out the cause.

  It was Carol. She had said she was a non-person as far as the government was concerned. The full meaning of this hadn’t sunk in until he was asleep and dreaming. As a non-person, it would be easy for her to disappear. If she did, he would never find her. There would be no official record of her. He had a lot of emotion invested in her, having found her almost dead, and he wanted to make sure she was all right.

  Having made a decision, he finally relaxed and went back to sleep. Then he overslept. By the time he awoke, his parents had gone to work at the business they owned. He jumped out of bed and dressed. While he was eating a bowl of some sugary cereal, he called his mother on his cell phone and spoke to her for several minutes. Then he drove to the hospital.

  Rigo walked into the hospital about ten. He didn’t remember any signs concerning visitors’ hours. He went rapidly past the reception area and straight to an elevator. Nobody questioned him. He exited at Carol’s floor and walked to her room, trying to look as if he belonged there.

  Her room was empty, and the bed was made. There was no sign anybody inhabited the room. Rigo’s panic started to return. He accosted an orderly in the hall and asked where Carol was. The young man said she’d left the hospital an hour ago. He didn’t know where she had gone.

  Rigo raced to the nurses’ station. The nurse behind the counter was on the phone. He impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to another, waiting for her to get off. After what seemed like an eternity, she hung up and started writing something. Rigo couldn’t wait any longer. He asked where Carol Golden had gone.

  The nurse, interrupted, looked up at Rigo. When she didn’t answer immediately, he said, “The young woman in room—”

  “I know who you mean. The girl with amnesia. She was taken to a shelter, I believe.”

  “Where is it? What’s the address?”

  “Are you a relative?” Apparently rethinking that, “Are you—”

  “A friend. I’m a friend.” When that didn’t get an immediate response, he said, “I’m the one who found her.”

  She looked at him with new respect and picked up the phone. She made a call and engaged in a brief conversation about Carol while writing on a pad. She hung up, tore off a sheet, and handed it to Rigo. “Here’s the address. Do you know where it is?”

  Rigo looked at it. “Downtown L.A.”

  The nurse nodded. “If you’re going there, be careful. She’s a nice girl. I hope she’ll be okay.”

  “You and me both. Thanks.” Rigo headed toward the elevator, clutching the piece of paper.

  Once he was in his car, he headed east toward the 110, aka the Harbor Freeway. He took it northbound. After a few miles, the tall buildings began to materialize in the distance, buildings he could see from his parents’ house on the hill when the air was clear. He passed through some sections of the city that were better avoided during daytime and more so at night.

  Traffic slowed near the intersection with the I-10, as it always did. It was funny to think the I-10, although it started only a few miles west of here at the Pacific Ocean, could be taken east all the way to Florida. Sometimes Rigo just wanted t
o get on it and drive.

  He took the 4th Street exit and headed east to San Pedro Street, passing between skyscrapers that loomed over him. Turning right at San Pedro Street, he looked for a reasonably priced parking lot. In downtown L.A., the sky was the limit as far as parking rates were concerned.

  He glanced along 5th Street as he passed it, expecting to see tents, cardboard boxes, and blanket rolls, just as he had when he visited this area on a field trip with a college class, several years before. Unshaven men and unkempt women had hung out or exchanged cigarettes for whatever they needed, probably including drugs. Possessions had been stored in supermarkets carts.

  They were all gone. A few homeless men sat here and there, on benches or on the sidewalk, but the tent city had disappeared. All those people couldn’t have found homes. The police must have cleaned up the area. Where were they now? Where would Carol end up if she joined their ranks?

  Fortunately, parking was less expensive here than it was a few blocks west amid the office buildings and high-class hotels. Rigo picked a lot with an attendant who looked reputable and pulled his car into it. He paid in advance and walked back along San Pedro Street.

  The Downtown Mission was a well-kept, modern-looking building. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he went inside, but if Carol could do it, he could. What he did see startled him—a mother with a young boy and girl. He hadn’t expected to find children here. Feeling sick, he turned away and spoke to a nicely dressed woman.

  “I’m looking for Carol Golden. She may have just arrived.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “She’s young, pretty, with dark hair. It’s short. She has recent scars on her head and face.”

  “Oh.” Her look softened. “Let me check the new arrivals. What’s your name?”

  “Rigo. I’m a friend of hers.”

  “Where did you park, Rigo?”

  “In a lot down the street.”

  “Next time you come, park in our lot underneath the building.”

  She went off to find Carol. Underground parking. Rigo was shocked at how large an operation this was. Homelessness was big business. In a short time, Carol came around a corner, wearing jeans and a top that were too big for her. She looked at him with surprise on her face.

  Rigo felt nervous. This place didn’t feel real to him. “Hi. I went to the hospital but you were already gone.”

  “They checked me out early and had somebody drive me here. You came all the way here to see me?”

  “It wasn’t that far. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  They went into a waiting room and sat on hard chairs. Rigo was trying to figure out what to say. “What will happen to you here?”

  “In the short run, they’ll give me food and a place to stay. And counseling, although I’m not sure what good that will do. They’ll also look after my immortal soul, although at the moment, my body needs more help than my soul. In the long run…I don’t know what will happen to me.”

  That was the opening Rigo needed. “I was talking about you to my parents last night. They want to help you.” He had actually talked to his mother briefly this morning.

  “That’s very nice of them.”

  “They want you to come and live with us until you get your feet on the ground.” It was easier for him to talk as if it were their idea.

  “Rigo…I don’t know what to say. That’s a very generous offer. You don’t have to…I’ll be fine.”

  He doubted she’d be fine. He forced himself to grin. “Maybe I do have to. They say that after you…help somebody, you’re responsible for them.”

  “You saved my life. I don’t want you to feel you’re responsible for me. That’s not fair. You’re very sweet. I don’t want to impose on you—and your parents.”

  He did feel responsible for her. He couldn’t bear the thought she might just disappear. “I want to make sure you’re safe. I don’t like the thought of you here—or worse. This isn’t a good place for a young woman.”

  “This isn’t a good place for anybody, especially children. And yet they’re here.” She appeared to be thinking. “You must have wonderful parents.”

  “You can come with me now.”

  “They’ll give me clothes here. At the hospital I was given a toothbrush and the clothes I’m wearing, which don’t fit. I don’t even have my own pair of knickers.”

  Rigo wondered what knickers were. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll help you get clothes. I know somebody who can help find out who you are. She’s good at finding people. She’s a friend of the family.”

  Carol perked up. “I trust you, Rigo. I trust you more than anybody I know—which isn’t saying much right now. If you’re serious, I’m ready to go.”

  “Good.” He got to his feet. “Shouldn’t you tell someone you’re leaving?”

  “I will. They’ll be glad I have a place where I can go. One less mouth to feed.” She laughed. Then she became sober. “When I get on my feet, I’m going to come back here and help them. They need all the help they can get—just like I do right now.”

  ***

  Carol showed a lively interest in her surroundings during the drive south on the Harbor Freeway, west on Pacific Coast Highway, and then up the hill into Palos Verdes on Crenshaw Boulevard and several other streets. When they turned onto Hawthorne Boulevard, she recognized the name from the newspaper stories about her.

  “Are we close to the restaurant where you found me?”

  “It’s at the end of Hawthorne, all the way up to the top of the hill where we’re going now, and then all the way down the other side, at the coast.”

  “I’ll buy you dinner at the restaurant—when I get some money.”

  “It’s a bit pricy. I can’t afford to eat there on my salary. Fortunately, I get fed as part of my job. They have good seafood.”

  “Los Angeles doesn’t look familiar to me at all. I don’t think I’ve been here before, at least when I was conscious. I can’t remember ever being in California.”

  “Do you remember where you have been?”

  “Perhaps the East Coast. I think I might recognize places if I saw them in person.”

  “We’re in the electronic age now. We’ve got fancy tools, like the Internet and Google and Google Earth. It’s not quite the same as being there in person, but you might recognize something you see a picture of or read about. We should be able to track you down.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “This was my sister’s room. She’s married and living in Phoenix. You can sleep here.”

  “Look at the view.” Carol rushed to the window of the second-story room. “I can see the whole world.”

  “Los Angeles, the mountains, Santa Monica Bay, Malibu, which is around the curve on the east-west section of the coast. Actually, you can see west to Point Dume, where the coast starts to curve north again, and east past Mt. San Gorgonio, the highest peak in Southern California. The closer peak to the right is in Orange County. In the right-hand corner you can see a bit of the Los Angeles harbor. The total distance east to west is over one hundred twenty-five miles.

  “If you let me use this room, I’ll never want to leave.”

  Rigo laughed. “Fortunately, it’s a very clear day. They’re not all like this.” With the aid of a pair of binoculars, he pointed out Santa Monica, Malibu, the Hollywood sign, the Los Angeles Airport, and the Los Angeles version of downtown, with the tall buildings they’d just been among.

  Carol looked through the binoculars for several minutes. “The map was right. Los Angeles is a big place.” She put them down. “Do you have any other siblings?”

  “Another sister, but she’s also married.” Rigo led the way into his room, where he kept his computer, and fired it up. On Google’s page he typed in “missing persons” and retrieved information on 2.5 million Web sites in a fraction of a second. “You aren’t the only missing person in the world.”

  “I guess that should make me feel better.”

  They studied the p
ictures on the FBI database first. Carol kept looking in the mirror above Rigo’s dresser. “I wonder how long I’ve had short hair. I picture myself with longer hair. It would help if we had a photo of me to compare with these pictures.”

  “No problem.”

  Rigo took out his digital camera and proceeded to snap several head shots of Carol. He posed her so the shaved spots on her head didn’t show. He enjoyed photographing her because she was very photogenic, in spite of her bruises and lacerations, and she had an entrancing smile. It also gave him a better feel for how she would look when the injuries healed, which would help in identifying a photo of her. He loaded the pictures directly from the camera into the computer and printed copies.

  In addition to the FBI, each state appeared to have a department for missing persons. A number of other organizations had sites with many pictures. Rigo and Carol studied them diligently. Only a few photos came close to looking like Carol, regardless of hair length, but closer study ruled them out.

  They checked several states, including California and those close by. Carol suggested they check other states, including those on the East Coast.

  “Okay, but let’s be smart about it. Judging from your accent, or lack thereof, I doubt that you’re from the Deep South. That would rule out Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, and probably Texas. I suspect Arkansas, Kentucky, and Tennessee aren’t good bets either.”

  “What about the northeast? I feel a kinship to Massachusetts, for some reason. Maybe because I like the name—Massachusetts. It has a delicious sound to it.”

  They looked at Web sites for New York and the New England states. They stopped to eat a lunch thrown together by Rigo from what food he could find in the kitchen, but they didn’t spend a lot of time.

  Back at the computer, they kept looking until Rigo glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go to work. I have to get to the restaurant before it opens at five, to help set up.” He saw a stricken look on Carol’s face. “It’s okay. My parents should be home by six. My mom will feed you dinner.”