Zire looked at the timestamp. At 9:12 he had been with Helena, returning from the terminal restroom. He could remember the moment clearly because he had stopped at a window to watch the baggage handlers arrange luggage containers beneath the plane. He had shown Helena a photograph of his grandfather's silver lunchbox and explained what it meant. If the system recorded him accepting a meal at that exact moment, the record was not merely inaccurate about the food. It placed him somewhere he had not been.
"I was outside the plane at 9:12," he said.
Merrick looked up. "Can someone confirm that?"
"The employee assigned to me. Her name is Helena Brooks. She walked me back from the restroom."
Bria seized on the detail. "I could have prepared his service confirmation while he was temporarily away. Sometimes we update the list before delivery so the system is ready."
"But the entry doesn't say prepared," Zire answered. "It says accepted."
Merrick checked the field. The boy was right. The page made no distinction between an item waiting to be served and an item physically handed to the correct passenger. By closing the record, a crew member was asserting that the passenger had received something. No one could make that assertion truthfully on Zire's behalf while he was in the terminal.
"We need the ground team to verify the timeline," Merrick said.
"We could simply refund him," Bria replied. "This is becoming an administrative spectacle."
"Why would a refund be enough after somebody reported he had accepted a meal he never saw?"
Bria did not answer. Zire watched the way she moved her thumb along the seam of her uniform sleeve, a small repetitive motion he had not noticed before. Harlon had taught him that an uncomfortable person often searched for something harmless to touch while thinking. He also knew that gestures were not proof, so he kept the observation to himself.
Across the aisle, Lenora's phone remained face down. She had made three small movements that Zire could not stop thinking about: she had tucked the label beneath a napkin, rubbed a blue mark across the printed name, and turned the screen away when he mentioned the prewritten caption. None of those choices was explained by a computer error. They were choices made by a person who had seen more than she wanted to admit.
"Mrs. Pike," Merrick said, "did Ms. Calder promise you a complimentary premium meal in the boarding area?"
"No," Lenora began, then stopped. "She told me the airline sometimes provides special hospitality to influential guests."
Bria's posture changed. "I didn't promise anything specific."
"You recognized my travel account," Lenora told her. "You asked whether I'd be interested in showing my followers what good cabin service looks like."