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two crimestories
contacted Silvana’s father
by now. It was finally
decided to call Silvana
into the office, where she
could wait until her father
picked her up. We hung
around the hallway until
Herr Schneider came back
with Silvana. She was pale
and had rings under her
eyes, which was the way
she had started looking
recently, even before her
mother had vanished a
week ago. She would not
make eye contact with us,
keeping her eyes fixed on
the floor instead. It was
better that way. Michael,
Thorsten and Cem stared
at her, jaws dropped, and
I’m sure I didn’t make a
better impression. That
ended up being the last
time we saw Silvana. At
first, they said she’d be
coming back after the
funeral. Then they said
she was sick and would
be coming back next
week. The week after
next. Before the break
in order to pick up her
grades. But she never
returned. Some said that
her father went back to
Italy. Others thought he
moved to another city.
We never found out
for sure. Just like the
police never figured out
who murdered Silvana’s
mother. Maybe they never
really searched hard for
the murderer. At least,
they never questioned us.
Twomonths before that, in
March 1989, I celebrated
the coolest birthday in my
fourteen-year life. I had
been allowed to invite my
friends to a cook-out at
the Grane Reservoir, and
for the first time ever, my
parents got my gift right:
the new LP from New