Forget to Remember

had a horrified expression.
    “By the way, the testing service still hasn’t received the DNA sample from the grandmother in North Carolina, Elizabeth Horton.”
    Carol shrugged. “What does it matter? I’m not Cynthia. I think I’d like to explore my UK connection. I don’t want to sit around and wait to see if Victoria is my mother. I’m afraid if I stay with Rigo and his family, I’ll be a target for the gunman. I’m scared to go for a walk. Maybe I need to take another trip.”
    Frances watched Rigo frown. She could think of reasons why Carol shouldn’t go, including an obvious one. “You need a passport.”
    “I’ll…I’ll take care of that. And I’ve got a little money.”
    Frances wondered about those things, but she wasn’t going to ask. “If you’re set on going, you should make the trip as productive as possible. Maybe you were going to school there, or even teaching.”
    “It must be next to impossible to find out if someone attended a university unless you have a name. I tried it for Duke and didn’t get anywhere.”
    “True, but there are a few things we can do. For example, if you were a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford University, it would be easy to find out. The names and backgrounds of Rhodes Scholars are public knowledge. I’m sure I can find pictures, too. I’ll check on that.”
    Carol looked incredulous. “Don’t you have to be extremely smart and versatile to be a Rhodes Scholar?”
    Rigo grinned. “Well?”
    “You don’t think that I—”
    “That description would appear to fit you to a T,” Frances said. “Sure, it’s a long shot, but we’ve got to try everything. Where do you think you’ll start looking?”
    “London. I promised Mrs. Horton that if I went to the UK, I’d look for signs of her granddaughter. She was last seen in London. In doing so, maybe that’ll give me ideas for my own situation. I seem to have a map of the London tube etched on my brain. I must have hung out there for some time.”
    ***
    Actually, Carol and Mrs. Horton had promised Paul she would look for Cynthia, to help extract the money and documents from him, but she didn’t want to talk about Paul in front of Rigo. She still remembered the night she spent with Paul, and the intense feelings it brought back were not ones she wanted Rigo to know about. Perhaps she would have the same feelings with Rigo, someday—assuming they ever did anything together other than act like brother and sister.
    ***
    Rigo drove home from Orange County by a different route than he’d driven there. He took the 405 all the way to the 710, aka the Long Beach Freeway, before heading south to Pacific Coast Highway. Going to Frances’ house he had taken PCH to 7 th Street, well past the Long Beach traffic circle, and gotten on the 405 from there. That seemed like a shorter route to Carol who was learning her way around, although staying on the freeway longer was probably faster, at least before the afternoon traffic got too heavy.
    The Long Beach traffic circle, or roundabout as it would be called in the UK, was the only traffic circle Carol had seen in California except for a small one in Palos Verdes. They were as scarce as hen’s teeth (which of her relatives had used that expression?) here. She had a feel for roundabouts, although the mantra that repeated in her head was “keep to the left and look to the right,” because the British drove on the left and traffic on the roundabout coming around from the right had the right of way. More proof she’d spent time in the UK.
    Rigo wasn’t happy about Carol’s decision to go to the UK. His unhappiness showed in his moodiness before he actually said anything. She kept silent, waiting for him to say what he was thinking, which he soon did.
    “I don’t like the idea of you going to the UK alone.”
    She didn’t want to argue, so she tried to keep it light. “I’ve obviously been there before, and apparently I made it back to the States. It was here I got into trouble.”
    “That was different. What if they find out you have a fake passport?”
    How did he know she had a fake passport? It wasn’t that hard to guess. “I might get deported to the U.S. where I’m already a non-person. At least I can’t get deported from here—I don’t think. Where would they send me—to Antarctica?”
    “I’m going with you.”
    Carol paused before she answered him. She didn’t want what she had to say to sound like a put-down. “Rigo, I really appreciate all