Forget to Remember (15 page)

She got to her feet and headed toward the
fence, keeping her body bent over and the car between herself and
the house. Of course, the farther she got from the car, the less
protection it gave her. The next problem was getting through the
fence. Iron spikes lined the top, waiting to impale her. A good
athlete could still climb over it, but it would be dangerous,
especially in the dark.

A light illuminated the double gate. It
didn’t have spikes sticking up from the top. Instead, there were
fancy iron curlicues. They offered good hand and foot holds, and
wouldn’t stab her if she slipped. Video cameras were undoubtedly
trained on the gate. If Kyle or somebody happened to be watching
the security monitors a mansion like this would certainly have he
would see her. Would they come after her?

She wasn’t a burglar. Anyway, it was too
late to back out. Carol tossed the plastic bag containing her purse
and her good shoes through the space between two of the vertical
iron bars and climbed up the gate, using the crossbars and the
curlicues. She threw one leg over the top and then scissored her
other leg over. She lowered herself down the other side. This was
easier than going through the bathroom window.

She picked up her shoe bag and started
trotting downhill on the narrow street toward the city lights.
There were enough streetlights and outdoor lights from the houses
she was passing for her to navigate her way between the rows of
parked cars.

She heard a car coming down the hill behind
her. Was Beard chasing after her, already? The car was still around
a curve, but the engine didn’t have the hesitant, unmufflered
rumble the Caddy had. She ducked behind a parked car, just to be
safe. The car rolled past, loud music blaring from an open window.
Must be young people.

She continued downhill, panting, slowing to
a fast walk. She wasn’t used to running. She figured by going
downhill she would hit civilization. Had the men missed her yet?
The locked bathroom door would stall them for a few minutes. Beard
would be really pissed off and come after her. She had to be on the
alert.

The minutes went by, and Carol didn’t hear
the distinctive sound of Beard’s car. She was making good progress.
A few cars passed her, going in both directions. Since there was no
sidewalk, she got off the road when they went by. The area was
quiet except for car noises. In the distance she heard the hum of
substantial traffic.

The hum grew louder as she approached a
busier street. She made several turns, still heading downhill.
Traffic grew heavier, but there were sidewalks here. She walked on
the left so she would be on the other side of the street from Beard
if he appeared. She constantly looked over her shoulder, nervously
watching for him, now that the noise was too loud for her to pick
out his car from the others.

She came to Sunset Boulevard. Of course, she
had heard of the famous Sunset. Beard had driven on it briefly on
the way to Ault’s house. In spite of it being a Tuesday evening,
the sidewalks were crowded with all sorts of people, many of them
dressed in strange outfits. The congestion was good for her. She
blended in and disappeared.

She turned right, toward the ocean. She had
a vague idea of following the coast home. Maybe she should call
Rigo. A digital clock in front of a building said it was 10:14 p.m.
Rigo would still be working. She didn’t want to bother him. Even
so, she unzipped her purse and looked for her cell phone. It wasn’t
there. Kyle had taken it. She didn’t see any phone booths. Had they
completely disappeared because of the digital revolution?

Carol knew she could borrow a phone from
someone if necessary, but she wasn’t going to call Tina and Ernie.
If they had to come and rescue her, they’d probably kick her out of
their house. She could call Rigo after he got off work, but he had
done too much for her already. She needed to get herself home.

Her purse contained the forty dollars Rigo
and Adam had given her plus a couple of ones. She doubted that it
was enough money to get her to Palos Verdes by taxi. It was
probably too late to ride a bus all the way. Besides, that would
take hours, even after she figured out how to do it. She crossed
the tricky intersection where Beverly Drive and Crescent Drive
intersected Sunset, and found she was at the Beverly Hills
Hotel.

Carol walked up the driveway toward the
entrance. Uniformed men were helping two guests with their luggage.
They had just exited an exotic car Carol didn’t recognize. She
approached one of the hotel employees. “Can I get a taxi?”

He glanced at her. She tried to hide the
scrape on her arm. He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Right over here.”

He led her to a waiting yellow taxi she
hadn’t seen and opened the door for her. She couldn’t afford to
give him a tip. As she climbed in, she gave him a smile and a flash
of leg, hoping that was enough. It would have to be.

The taxi driver started his engine and said
something to her in broken English. Carol gritted her teeth before
speaking. “I only have forty-two dollars. Is that enough to get to
Palos Verdes?”

He shook his head.

“How about the beach?”

“The beach—where?”

“Manhattan Beach?” She knew from her travels
that Manhattan Beach was south of the Los Angeles Airport. She
could walk from there.

“Manhattan Beach? Okay, we go to Manhattan
Beach.”

He drove west on Sunset. Carol remembered
hearing somewhere the Chevrolet Corvair, an ancient General Motors
car with a rear engine, was supposed to have been so unstable the
curvy Sunset Boulevard became a graveyard for them. They passed the
UCLA campus, and the driver went south on the 405 freeway.

Communication wasn’t good between them
because his understanding of English was questionable. Carol
monitored their progress, hoping he was really going to the beach.
She was relieved when she saw the signs for LAX and knew they were
headed in the correct direction. He exited the freeway at Rosecrans
Avenue.

The meter had reached forty-two dollars, but
she sweet-talked him into driving closer to the beach with the
meter off, figuring it would be safer to walk on the beach than on
the streets. He took her to the corner of Rosecrans and Highland
Avenue. She could see the ocean. This would have to do. She gave
him the forty-two dollars, thanked him, effusively, and headed
downhill to the beach walking path.

Late as it was, there were still a few
people walking and running on the concrete path that wended its way
in front of the beachside houses. Now that Carol had safely eluded
Beard, she felt a lot better. This was an adventure.

The coolness of the ocean breeze caressed
her face. In addition to her cell phone, she had left her jacket at
Ault’s place. All she wore were her short-sleeved sweater and
skirt. She didn’t think the temperature was below fifteen—Celsius.
She reminded herself Fahrenheit was used in the U.S. Okay, about
sixty Fahrenheit. As long as she kept moving she wouldn’t get
cold.

Hermosa Beach followed Manhattan Beach. Here
the walking path and bike path, which were separate in Manhattan
Beach, became one. However, bikes were almost nonexistent at this
hour. Carol was getting tired. Her feet hurt. She could see the
lights of the hill of Palos Verdes Peninsula ahead, but they looked
like a mirage she would never reach.

She asked a female jogger what time it was.
The answer was twelve thirty. Rigo must be home now. Hopefully, he
would be in bed and not worrying about her. At the end of Hermosa
Beach, she had to walk on the street to get around the small-boat
harbor. She walked past the shops and the parking structure at the
Redondo Beach pier. There was still some activity at the
restaurants on the pier, a couple of which had Tony’s as part of
their name.

Instead of taking the beach path through
Redondo, she went uphill to the path that followed the cliff above
the beach. It fronted a series of apartment buildings. She would
have to start climbing eventually, anyway. It didn’t hurt to gain a
little altitude now. The apartments were largely quiet. Even beach
lovers slept. When the path ended, she walked along the cliff-side
street. A few cars cruised by.

One slowed down to her pace and a male voice
called. “Need a ride, honey?”

She kept walking along the sidewalk, not
looking at him. He said a couple of other things, getting
progressively more inappropriate. She walked faster. The car
accelerated and sped away.

Palos Verdes loomed directly in front of
Carol. It looked like a mountain. The street started uphill. She
remembered Rigo telling her their home was higher than 1100 feet
above sea level. She was coming from close to sea level. Her legs
ached. She came to Palos Verdes Boulevard. She knew from riding
with Rigo that this street led to Malaga Cove. From there she could
take Palos Verdes Drive North to Silver Spur to Hawthorne and then
home. She was glad she’d paid attention to where they went.

However, it was easier said than done. By
the time Carol was on the final stretch on Hawthorne, she was
moving slowly. Each step required an effort. She was thirsty and
tired and sore. Her feet burned. When she finally entered the
driveway of the Ramirez residence she felt proud of her
accomplishment. The outside light was on. She unlocked the front
door and went into the house, trying not to make any noise.

She heard a soft snore. There was Rigo,
asleep in a chair. She hated to wake him, but she had to. He was
worried about her. She had to let him know she was okay. She
touched his arm and spoke softly. “Rigo.”

Rigo woke with a start. He looked at her and
then at his watch. It was after three. Carol said, “Thanks for
waiting up. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“You should have called me.”

“I lost my cell phone.” It was a lame excuse
and also gave the wrong idea. “I’m fine.”

Rigo saw the scrape on her arm. He didn’t
seem to be buying her story. She had to do better. “I’ll tell you
all about it in the morning. I had an adventure. I’m going to get a
glass of water and go to bed.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead
and went into the kitchen.

CHAPTER 19

Carol had told Rigo the whole story. At
least he hoped she had told him the whole story. He knew by now she
kept secrets from him. She had been vague about how she’d acquired
a driver’s license. Paul Vigiano, the North Carolina attorney, was
involved in this, somehow, but their relationship wasn’t clear.

She claimed Jake Beard was gay. A gay
football player? He supposed it was possible. Hadn’t some guy
written a book about being a gay football player? She’d shown she
had a conscience by not taking the billionaire’s money. She had
most of the attributes he was looking for in a wife—except an
identity. She couldn’t even get married.

Rigo and Carol hadn’t come up with any new
information on Carol’s identity. Neither had Frances who was
waiting for the results of an expanded DNA test for the woman,
Victoria Brody. The swimsuit video appeared to be a dead end. Rigo
knew this was frustrating to Carol. He wished he could be of more
help so she would stop doing dangerous things. She had to avoid
Beard. She told Rigo he and Adam shouldn’t go to the sports bar
when Beard was likely to be there.

Tina called from work and told Carol a man
named Kyle had phoned and said he had Carol’s cell phone and jacket
and where should he send them? Tina told him to send them to her
office. Carol said Kyle, who was the billionaire’s assistant, must
have taken Tina’s business card out of her purse. That was as bad
as going through security at an airport. Maybe worse. Had this Kyle
strip-searched her as well? Rigo decided he didn’t like Kyle.

***

Carol had left a brief note for Tina and
Ernie in the kitchen before going to bed. Then she slept until late
in the morning. She told Rigo everything that happened, figuring he
deserved to know. Feeling sorry that she was such a pain to him,
she spent the rest of the day with him until he went to work.

He took her to a private tennis club he had
access to because of his accomplishments and gave her a lesson. She
had apparently played before, but she wasn’t in his class. He was a
good teacher, and she learned a lot. They had fun.

When Ernie and Tina arrived home, Tina
talked about the phone call from Kyle. “Kyle asked if you were all
right. He sounded concerned. Of course, I couldn’t tell him because
I hadn’t seen you yet. I did tell him you returned home
safely.”

Carol told them an abbreviated version of
her adventures last night, downplaying the difficulties and making
light of the betting. She tried to make it amusing. They might not
have completely bought what she said, but they were too polite to
grill her.

Ernie started talking about a problem they
had at their office. “A new division of our company is working on
heating systems that don’t generate much or any carbon dioxide.
They utilize hydrogen and oxygen, which can be extracted from
water. When we’re talking to a prospect, we have to go through some
fairly intricate mathematical calculations to justify the cost and
determine what the monetary savings and reduction in carbon output
will be. The man who had been doing these calculations just left us
for a better job.”

Carol was intrigued. “Show me what kind of
calculations you’re talking about.” She knew the odds at
backgammon. She knew how to convert from decimal to binary. Maybe
her understanding of math went deeper than that. She suspected it
did. She had a warm feeling about numbers.

Ernie took a pad and wrote equations on it
that involved both math and chemistry. Carol had no trouble
following him. When he set up a problem, she was able to solve it,
using a calculator and knowledge that came from somewhere deep
within her brain.