We found Mom in the hallway outside the ICU waiting room. She was talking on the phone, and she waved us by as we passed her. (I’ve seen her do that tons of times. There’s no use interrupting her.)
The ICU waiting room was nice and big, and a TV in the corner of the room was playing one of the Star Wars movies. Brady went right over to stare at it. I plunked down on a chair while Dad used the phone on the wall to see if we could go in to see Flip. Across the room from me were more chairs and that guy in the blue sweatshirt.
It was really starting to bug me that I couldn’t figure him out. He kept looking from side to side, but he never looked right at me. I wanted him to notice me, ’cause maybe he would figure out who I was and say something. So I tried to make a scene by flipping my blanket around and then by saying some of the Star Wars lines out loud. Finally, I got up to get a magazine at the table that was right next to him.
Dad finally hung up the phone. “Okay, Riley. We can go in, but we need to wait for Mom so she can watch Brady.”
Brady looked up from the TV. “I don’t need anyone to watch me.”
“Yeah, you do,” I said.
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do!” I guess I couldn’t give up fighting with my brother just yet.
Brady looked around the room and pointed to the guy in the sweatshirt. “Okay, he can watch me.” Then Brady’s eyes got big.
“Hey . . .” Brady said. He got up, walked over to me, and reached for my hand, which he never does. He led me over to Dad, who was sitting down waiting for Mom.
“Let me go, Brady. Your hand is slimy.”
He wouldn’t let me go. Then he started whispering something in my ear.
“What? You’re slobbering, and I can’t tell what you’re saying. Spit in Dad’s ear.”
Mom came in then.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Dad said. “Riley and I are going in — ”
“That’s him!” Brady pointed at the sweatshirt guy.
The sweatshirt guy got up to leave.
“He’s the Easter sneaker!”
Sweatshirt guy took off running.
Mom went after him.
We followed Mom. But Mom moves really fast. We barely got into the hallway when we heard Mom call for help from two policemen down at the end by the elevators. They ran toward the sweatshirt guy.
“Stop right there!” Mom yelled.
Sweatshirt guy ran past the first elevator toward the stairwell, but Mom had caught up by then, and she and the two policemen jumped on him and dragged him to the floor.
The policemen pulled the guy’s hands behind his back and put handcuffs on him.
“I can explain! I haven’t done anything wrong.” His voice sounded familiar to me too. But from where?
The other elevator door opened, and out walked Bob Hansen and Fawn — practically right into the pile of people on the floor. There was a little scuffle, and most of Fawn’s milkshake flopped out of her cup and onto her shirt.
“Oh, great.” Fawn wiped her shirt with her hand and then looked down at the sweatshirt guy.
“What in the world — Eric? Is that you?”
“Sam!” He yelled.
“What are you doing?” Fawn looked shocked.
“He’s getting arrested.” Mom had the policemen pull the guy up off the floor.
“Sam, tell them I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Look — Mrs. Hart — this is some kind of mistake.”
“Fawn, this is the man who’s been following you, and I’d be willing to bet he had something to do with Flip’s accident.”
“No! I can explain,” Eric said.
“You can do that down at the station.” Then the two policemen dragged him away, down the stairs.
All of us who were left in the hallway just stood there, shocked. Bob took Fawn’s empty milkshake cup from her, placed it in a drink caddy on the floor, and smiled. “Sorry about your drink. You want my lemonade?”
And that’s when I remembered.
Lemonade.
Arizona.
The news reporter.
Eric.
“Hey — who’s Sam?” Brady asked.