The warning beacon in her gut blares in tandem with the flashes. Danger is imminent. Something must have happened to her parents while she was away. She knows it. She can feel it. The bag of cat food slips from her hand with a bash. Coal’s claws skitter across the hardwood as he bolts for cover. Kavita braces herself, then presses play.

“Kavita?” her father says. “It’s Papa. I’m staying at a hotel. Call me when you get back. Bye.”

What? she thinks. Why is he at a hotel?

The next message plays.

“It’s Papa again. After I hung up, I realized I forgot to tell you where I’m staying. The hotel is called the Traveller’s Lodge. The phone number is…have you got a pen? Okay, the number is….”

Kavita scrambles for the message pad beside the phone and scribbles out what she hears.

The third message begins.

“Hi, beti. Me again.” For a few seconds, the message breaks, and all Kavita can hear is the static sound of her father’s breath, its strain amplified through the receiver. “Your mother and I had a fight. She….” Another break in the recording, more heavy breathing. “…She blamed me. For his death. Said it was my fault. If I had been a better father, more attentive, then he wouldn’t have.…” Someone else might have filled the pause with their tears, but Kavita has still only ever seen her father cry at Sunil’s cremation, the day he was brought back to them, and then taken away. “Remember when you caught us fighting in the living room? She said it then, too. But I didn’t think she meant it. I thought she was just angry and needed to take it out on someone. Anyway, I hope you get home soon.”

Before the fourth message plays, Kavita already knows who it will be.

“Kavita? It’s Mom. I’m sure your father has called you by now. Don’t listen to him. I didn’t kick him out. He chose to leave. I’m sorry he dragged you into this. But please don’t worry. It’s nothing. I hope you had a good trip. Nirav’s mother must have been so happy to see him.” A pause that lasts a few beats too long. “Call me once you’ve settled in.”

The last message on the machine is an automated recording is from the Canadian Diabetes Foundation notifying them about donation collection happening in their area next week.

Nirav enters the kitchen buttoning up a fresh shirt. “Anything for me?” he asks.

“We have to get Dad,” she mutters past her shock.

“Get him from where?”

She holds up the message pad, stupefied.

Nirav reads her scribbles. “The Traveller’s Lodge? What’s all this about?”

“That’s where he’s staying. I think he’s been there for days.”

“Why isn’t he at home?”