“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“I’m searching for Claire Parker,” she said, her voice quiet and professional. “But the system is showing your seat has been released.”
“That’s not possible,” I said. “It was part of a group reservation under Grant Parker.”
She tapped her screen again, her finger tracing a line of text on the monitor.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Parker, but your reservation was voided online forty-seven minutes ago.”
“Voided?” I repeated the word, my voice sounding thin even to myself. “By who?”
“The primary account holder,” she said. “The ticket was canceled and the credit was applied back to the original card.”
“But I paid him for my portion of the ticket,” I said.
I pulled the paper gate pass from my purse and laid it on the counter. Sarah looked at the printed receipt, her face softening with a brief flicker of pity.
“This was printed yesterday afternoon,” she said. “The cancelation was processed at eleven-fifty-three today.”
Eleven-fifty-three. That was exactly when we were driving south on the highway, with my father steering and my mother sitting silent in the front passenger seat.
