Page 27 of Until

This has gone on long enough. I turn off the car and get out. I need to know what he knows. Standing in front of the boy, I put my hands on his shoulders and look directly into his eyes.

“Who is she?” I growl.

“No one, you know,” he says as he points to the photo on his phone again. “I was told her name is Carina Cameron.”

“And how do you know her?” I take my hands off him, then step back a few feet from him.

“I don’t. I was given her name and a couple of other pieces of information.”

“Then what else do you know?”

“C’mon man, do I look like I know everything? All I know is she goes to the hospital in midtown every day, and she works as a waitress at John’s.”

“And how do I know this is true?”

“You don’t,” he says. “You’re going to have to just believe me. Or don’t. I really don’t care either way.”

“Who told you all of this?”

“Now, that’s none of your business. I don’t squeal,” he says before walking away.

I don’t chase him; it’s a waste of my time. He doesn’t know anything else and won’t tell me who gave him the information. There is no reason to waste more time with him.

With all of my excitement about getting her name, I didn't realize I didn't ask which of the three Midtown hospitals she went to or why she went there. Is she working there, too? Is she sick? I have no idea.

I can’t let the information I have go to waste, so I head towards the hospital closest to John’s Restaurant. As I walk through the lobby, I notice some people turning their heads to look at me. It's funny being somewhat of a celebrity, especially when it’s for nothing.

The front desk is in the center of the lengthy lobby area with rows of elevators behind it. There’s a tall counter that looks empty. As I reach the desk a tiny woman with wild gray curly hair looks up from her seat.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

"Yes, I'm looking for Carina Cameron. I was told she comes here every day."

She tilts her head as she looks at me, then she turns to the computer and slowly begins to type the name.

"Is that Carina with a K or C?"

"I'm not sure. Can you try it with both?"

One eyebrow shoots upward as she looks at me and then down at her computer. She begins to shake her head.

"And she's a patient here?” she asks.

“Well, I'm not sure about that either."

She sits back in her chair and places her hands on top of the desk in front of her, her arms straightened.

"Well, then, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to help you. I can't just give you information. If you're here to visit the patient, that's one thing."

"Well, maybe she works here."

"Well, maybe you're some kind of psycho stalker," she says as she folds her arms over her chest.

"A stalker? No, no. It's not like that at all."

"Well then, what is it like?” she asks.

"You see, we met at a party, and she and I really hit it off, but she had to leave at midnight, and I’ve been trying to find her since.”

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