Forget to Remember Read Free Page B

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 to get on it and drive.
    He took the 4 th 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 5 th 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,