The Vanishing of Katharina Linden Read Online Free PDF

little, as though the energy that had drawn her toward us had drained out of her. Now she did reach out with one hand and touch my shoulder.
    “Are you
sure?”
she asked me. “Are you really
sure
you didn’t see where she went?”
    “No,” I said, then, realizing that this sounded ambiguous: “No, I didn’t see where she went.”
    “She’s probably gone around to Marla’s or something,” suggested Stefan, trying to be helpful.
    “She hasn’t,” stated Frau Linden bluntly. She looked about her in a preoccupied manner, as though she had left Katharina somewhere like a forgotten bag of shopping.
    Then her arm dropped to her side, she turned and hurried back up the Marktstrasse, without even bothering to say goodbye. Stefan and I exchanged glances. This was odd behavior from an adult.
    “Komisch,”
observed Stefan.
    “Yes,” I agreed, shrugging.
    It was getting chilly standing there in my gingham dress, and the curt exchange with Frau Linden had dissipated my holiday mood.
    “I’m going home,” I said, and after a pause, “Do you want to come?”
    Stefan just nodded. We picked up our bags of loot and set off for my house. I was sliding my key into the lock when my mother opened the door from the other side.
    Typically for my mother, she did not waste time greeting Stefan and asking him all those mundane adult questions such as
How is school going?
or
How is your mother?
She launched straight in with “Has either of you seen Katharina Linden?”
    We looked at each other. Had all the adults gone mad?
    “No,” we both said in unison.
    “Are you quite sure?”
    “We saw her at the fountain earlier on, but she’s gone now,” I said. “We told Frau Linden that.” I looked at my mother doubtfully. “Why is everyone looking for her, anyway? What’s she done?”
    “She hasn’t done anything,” said my mother. “She’s just disappeared.” She eyed me and Stefan dubiously, obviously reluctant to say anything that would alarm us. “Well, she’s probably just gone home with a friend,” she said eventually. “I’m sure she’ll turn up.”
    “Frau Linden said she’d already tried Marla Frisch’s house,” I pointed out. There was a silence. “Where’s Papa?” I asked.
    “He’s out,” said my mother. She sighed. “He’s helping the Lindens look for Katharina.”
    “We can help too,” suggested Stefan. He pulled the Spider-Man balaclava off his head to reveal sandy hair sticking up every which way in untidy clumps. His face looked eager; I wondered if he was letting the Spider-Man outfit go to his head. “We can look for her. We know loads of places, don’t we, Pia?”
    My mother shook her head. “I think it would be better if you both stayed in now,” she said. “Let the grown-ups look for Katharina.” Her voice was mild, but the tone was unmistakably firm. Abruptly, as though changing the subject, she said, “Do you two want some hot chocolate?”
    Five minutes later, Stefan and I were contentedly enthroned on the long bench behind the kitchen table, our mouths ringed with chocolate. For the time being, Katharina Linden was forgotten.

Chapter Seven

    I t was fully dark when my father finally came home. He was still in his Scarecrow outfit, although his brown face paint was all smeared, as though he had been wiping the back of his hand across his face like a little child. As he stood stamping his feet on the doormat, my mother came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel.
    “And?” was all she said.
    My father shook his head. “Not a sign of her anywhere.” He bent to unlace his shoes, breathing heavily. When he straightened up, he said, “Someone thought they saw her up near the Orchheimer Tor, but it was another child in a similar costume. Dieter Linden’s still out looking, but I don’t think he’ll find much now it’s dark.”
    I was listening to this from the kitchen table, where I was working my way through my supper: gray bread, a slice of cheese, and a