Gizelda Becker gasped and took a step backwards, her bum bumping the bathroom door inward.
The man, who was a step ahead of her, threw his arms out as if to shield her.
The movement drew his black suit jacket open, and I gawked at the familiar black cobra fanny pack clipped to his waist.
I pointed at the bag. "Hey. Isn't that—"
The man swept his jacket closed and tried to button it over the fanny pack as he headed out the frosted doors. "All will be well, Ms. Becker. Good evening. Peace be with you."
Where the heck was he going? I turned to Gizelda and thrust the roses at her. "I'm so sorry about your father."
She automatically accepted the bouquet, even though her mouth still gaped open.
"I'll be back in a second, after I talk to your—friend." The frosted doors sealed behind him.
I could feel Tucker's confusion, but I didn't have time to explain beyond an urgent look.
How many men wear any sort of fanny pack, let alone one emblazoned with a cobra?
Even an IED couldn't erase it from my memory. I'd unbuckled it from around Mr. Becker's waist, and within hours of his death, his daughter had handed that cobra bag over to a stranger.
I needed to know why.
"No. No!" Gizelda cried behind me.
"It's okay, Tucker will help you with the flowers," I called over my shoulder as I slipped into the hallway and followed that man. His soles echoed off the tile floor in the otherwise empty corridor.
"Hello!"
He didn't turn around, but his head twitched to listen to my sneakers thumping behind him.
"Sir, I'm Dr. Hope Sze."
He couldn't run, or didn't want to run, in black leather dress shoes, but he stepped up the pace.
"I just have a few questions."
He turned for the elevator at the end of the hall.
I broke into a run. "It'll only take a few minutes! Please."
He punched the elevator button repeatedly, but I knew that wouldn't net him a fast getaway in a decrepit hospital.
"Marhaba!" I called, closing in. Cobra Guy had spoken good English to Ms. Becker, but I might as well try out my fledgling Arabic, even if I reminded myself of white people screaming "Ni hao!" at me across the street.
At 5'2" and a quarter, no one considers me physically intimidating. Even my little bro is gaining on me. But Cobra Guy's eyes widened in fear before he broke for the stairs across from the elevator.
"No, I just want to talk to you. Please!"
"Hope!" Tucker thundered behind me.
"Can't talk. Running!" I shouted as I shoved open the stair door and rushed down each step. Good thing we were only on the third floor.
"Hope! Afwan!"
If anything, Tucker's Arabic ratcheted Cobra Guy up to sprint mode.
"Stay with her!" I howled at Tucker, and gunned it.
I heard the third floor door swing open above me. Tucker had ignored me and abandoned Gizelda, but I couldn't waste the breath to tell him off.
Still, irritation meant I fell a few crucial seconds behind. Yeah, must've been that, and not me being less fit than a thirtyish guy in a suit.
I banged open the stair door on the first floor and pelted after him, shocked at the number of people crowding the lobby. Did KMT have a second stage of visiting hours? How many family members hung out in a hospital at dinner time?
Cobra Guy darted around a family of six. The mother cried out and yanked a toddler up to her chest. The father berated Cobra Guy but made no move to stop him.
"Excuse me!" I called.
The family clustered together in the middle of the hall, still focused on the guy, three kids wailing, one dad cursing, all of them blocking my way.
"Marhaba! Shokran! Please, I want to talk to him!" I wove around them, side-stepping a stroller and multiple small shoes.
Another guy glanced up from his cell phone before he walk-texted directly into my path.
"It's important!" I snapped, edging against the wall to sneak around him. Cobra Guy had nearly reached the security guards.
"Hope!" Tucker bellowed behind me.
"He's getting away, Tucker!"
"Do you need help?" asked an older man with an impressive beard.
"Yes, I want to talk to the man in the suit. Please!"
Beard Man frowned and surveyed the crowd, meditating on my words.
I lowered my voice. "It's about my friend who passed away."
Beard Man raised his hands in the air and issued a short speech.
The crowd chattered amongst themselves, but slowly, reluctantly, they parted toward the edges of the hallway.
Moses parted the Red Sea; Beard Man parted the hospital horde.
"Thank you so much, sir. Much appreciated. Excuse me! Thank you."
Tucker caught up with me, and I huffed, "I swear I'm not crazy."
"I trust you," he said. That's exactly why I love him.
We dashed down the hall, which ended in a three-way juncture, one of which exited to the outside.
I gambled on the exit and rushed through the outer doors. "Hello! Sir. Please!"
A white checker-boarded taxi squealed away from the curb with Cobra Guy barely visible in the passenger seat.