They returned to the lobby. The stairwell smelled faintly of incense. The elevator chimed. A man in a rumpled coat stepped out and glanced at them with a detached curiosity. He was in his forties, with a trimmed beard and eyes that moved too quickly. He introduced himself as Raghav, a tenant from 4A, and asked if everything was alright. Amar assured him it was. Raghav mumbled something about the rain and moved down the corridor.
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"You called no one," Maya said, the accusation blunt like a knife. "When Anjali went missing—no call to the police?" They returned to the lobby
