FRANCISCO X .

STORK

ARTHUR A . LEVINE BOOKS

AN IMPRINT OF SCHOL ASTIC I N C.
 Copyright 2017 by Francisco X. Stork

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Stork, Francisco X., author.

Title: Disappeared / Francisco X. Stork.
Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Arthur A. LevineBooks, an
imprint of Scholastic Inc., 2017. | Summary: Four months ago Sara Zapatas
best friend, Linda, disappeared from the streets of Juarez, and ever since
Sara has been using her job as a reporter to draw attention to the girls
who have been kidnapped by the criminals who control the city, but now she
and her family are being threatenedmeanwhile her younger brother,
Emiliano, is being lured into the narcotics business by the promise of big
money, and soon the only way for both of them to escape is to risk the
dangerous trek across the desert to the United States border.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017017320 | ISBN 9780545944472 (hardcover : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Brothers and sistersMexicoCiudad JurezJuvenile
fiction. | WomenViolence againstMexicoCiudad JurezJuvenile
fiction. | CrimeMexicoCiudad JurezJuvenile fiction. |
KidnappingMexicoCiudad JurezJuvenile fiction. | Reporters and
reportingMexicoCiudad JurezJuvenile fiction. | Ciudad Jurez
(Mexico)Fiction. | CYAC: Brothers and sistersFiction. |
KidnappingFiction. | Reporters and reportingFiction. | Ciudad Jurez
(Mexico)Fiction. | MexicoFiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.S88442 Di 2017 | DDC [Fic]dc23 LC record
available at [Link]

ISBN 978-0-545-94447-2

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 17 18 19 20 21

Printed in the U.S.A. 23

First edition, October 2017

Book design by Christopher Stengel

FOR JOHN A . SYVERSON
 El Sol
C i u da d Ju r e z , M x ic o

january 7

One Hour Late

By Sara Zapata

On the morning of November 14, the day she was kidnapped,

Linda Fuentes opened the door to my house and walked into
the kitchen, where my family was having breakfast. As usual, I
wasnt ready. Linda and I had an ongoing argument: She said
I was always late, and I said she got to my house early to bask
in the adoration of my younger brother, Emiliano. But we had
been best friends for fourteen years, so we could forgive each
other anything. I heard her laughing and chatting with my
mother and Emiliano until I was ready to go.
Our routine had been the same every morning for the past
two years. We walked the six blocks from my house to
Boulevard Pablo II, where we caught a bus that would take us
to the Cathedral. From there I would catch another bus to the
offices of this newspaper, and Linda walked three blocks to her
job at a shoe store on Francisco Villa Avenue. Linda had
dropped out of school and taken the job at the shoe store when
her father was paralyzed in a construction accident. Her salary,
along with a small income that her mother made from sewing,
supported her parents and two younger sisters.

1
 Linda always waited with me until my bus arrived. We
stayed together as much as possible, partly because most abduc-
tions of women in Jurez occur downtown, and partly as
protection against the comments of men driving or walking by.
Every time a man said something offensive, Linda and I would
whisper puchi to each other and laugh. I found an empty bus
seat that morninga small miracleand when I looked out
the window, I saw Linda jump up and down in excitement over
my good luck. As the bus pulled away, she stuck her tongue out
at me.
That was the last time I saw my best friend.
I worked all day at this newspaper. At seven p.m. I got a
phone call from Lindas mother. I knew as soon as I heard Mrs.
Fuentess shaky voice that something terrible had happened.
Linda got off work at four, and she had never been home later
than six. If you are a daughter or a sister or a wife in Jurez, the
one thing you always do if you are going to be late is call. And
if your friend is one hour late and she hasnt called home, your
heart begins to break.
Mrs. Fuentes was hoping against hope that Linda and I had
decided to go to the movies after I finished work. She knew we
would never do that without calling our families first, but when
you are worried, you grasp at straws. Mrs. Fuentes had already
called the shoe store where Linda worked, and the owner told
her that Linda left a few minutes after four that afternoon. She
walked toward the bus station with plenty of time to catch the
4:30 bus that would get her home by six at the latest. Linda
usually left with another employee from the store, but that day,
she traveled those three blocks alone.
What do you do? Where do you go when your best friend

2
has disappeared, and you know deep inside that the worst has
happened? You pray for a miracle, but you act like a detective.
I called the bus company and was assured that there were no
accidents or other unusual occurrences on Lindas route. When
I got home, I asked a neighbor with a car to drive me down-
town on the same streets the bus takes. We parked the car near
the Cathedral and walked the blocks that Linda walked every
day to her job. We showed Lindas picture to store owners, to
bus drivers, to street vendors. We drove to municipal police
headquarters and were told that they had no jurisdiction to
investigate missing girls. Later that night, I took Mrs. Fuentes
to the State Police, and we were told to go home and wait.
Your daughters probably having a drink with a boy, the offi-
cer in charge said, a smirk on his face. We drove to the General
Hospital. She wasnt there. A kind nurse checked with the other
hospitals. Nothing.
That night, everyone who knew Linda gathered at her
house. Everyone offered Lindas parents and her sisters hope.
We tried to be positive, but we couldnt shake off what we
knew: In ninety percent of Jurezs missing-girl cases, their
bodies are found a month or two later. We agreed to make fly-
ers with Lindas picture and personal details and decided where
to post them. We made a list of all the government authorities,
all the groups of mothers of missing daughters who we would
contact. We went on Facebook and Twitter and asked for help.
Mrs. Fuentes finally cried herself to sleep around six that
morning.
It has been almost two months since Linda disappeared.
Every week I accompany Mrs. Fuentes to the State Police
headquarters and we inquire about Linda. We know what the

3
answer to our questions will be, but we want to keep putting
pressure on the police. We want them to know that someone
cares. Mr. and Mrs. Fuentes have been called twice to the
forensic offices to identify pieces of clothing found on the bod-
ies of young women. I have seen their relief when the clothing
is not Lindas, and then, immediately, the return of the restless,
gnawing grief that comes from not knowing what happened to
your daughter.
I wake up each morning thinking that I hear Lindas laugh-
ter in the kitchen. When I step into the bus that took us
downtown every morning, I look for two seats. Sometimes I
think I see her waiting for me with the ice-cream cones we
treated ourselves with at the end of the day. But those brief
moments of hope quickly disappear, and I feel even more alone,
with a sense of her absence so real I can almost touch it.
Maybe in other cities in the world, a young woman can be
one hour late and it isnt a cause for worry. In Jurez, that is
simply not possible. It is true that the number of Desaparecidas
has greatly diminished over the years, so the number of killings
and disappearances is now, as our public officials like to tell us,
comparable to other cities of similar size. By comparable
they mean, for example, that the number of disappearances
last year was only sixty-four. And by November, when Linda
disappeared, there had been only forty-six reported cases of
missing girls.
But optimism at the normal number of disappearances
will never comfort a best friends grief. The emptiness I feel
cant be filled with comparisons to other cities or with statis-
tics. Linda, the friend who entered my house every morning

4
without knocking, is missing. And the only way to lessen the
pain is to look for her. To keep looking for her for as long as we
promised our friendship would last.
I will keep looking for you, my dear friend, forever and
ever.

5
 Part I

Mexico
 chapte r 1

Sar a
Fr i day, M arch 24
9 :10 a . m .

You need to give up on the missing girls, Felipe says.

Sara isnt sure she heard him correctly. Although Felipes
tone is not harsh, the index finger he points at her makes his
words sound like a reprimand. Hes sitting behind his desk,
covered in a disordered mess of envelopes and paper. Sara looks
at her editor, Juana, who stands up and closes the glass door to
the office.
Look, Sara, Felipe continues when Juana sits down.
Youve done a great job with your column, but now its time
to focus on the good stuff. This is not 2010, when twenty girls
went missing every month. Jurez is prospering. Tourists are
coming back to the shops, nightclubs are hopping again,
Honeywell just opened a new assembly plant. We need to get
on board and contribute to creating a positive image. Why
dont you write a weekly column on the new schools opening?
The slums getting cleaned up?
Sara feels Juanas hand on her arm. Ever since her article on
Lindas disappearance, shes written a weekly profile of one of
the hundreds of girls who have gone missing. That column has
been her fight and her comfort, the fulfillment of the promise
she made to Linda to never stop looking for her. It cannot be

9
taken away. Juana has always been Saras close friend and
staunchest advocate, and her touch gives her strength.
Sara speaks as calmly as she can. Youre right that there
arent as many girls disappearing as a few years ago, or even a
year ago, she says. But there are still so many girls who go
missing, like Susana Navarro last week. And what about the
dozens still unaccounted for? Where are they? Maybe some
of them are still alive. The fact that were still getting threats
is proof that our articles hit a nerve. Were the only ones keep-
ing the pressure on the government. Theyd give up if it wasnt
for us.
Felipe rubs the back of his head. Sara knows he always has
trouble responding to logical arguments. Bad news doesnt
sell anymore. The newspaper is finally beginning to do well.
We went from daily to almost dead to weekly and now were
biweekly. I dont want to take a step backwards here. No one
wants to buy ads next to pictures of missing girls.
But thats been true for a while now, Sara says. Has
there been a specific threat?
Felipe and Juana look at each other. Then he sighs and
pushes a single sheet of paper across his desk. Its a printout of
an e-mail.

If you publish anything of Linda Fuentes we will kill your

reporter and her family.

Sara reads the e-mail once, then again, pausing on the

words kill, reporter, family.
It was sent to me around six this morning. I forwarded it
to you, Felipe says to Juana. Then, fixing his eyes on Sara:

10
Are you doing anything with Linda Fuentes? Research, inter-
views, calling people?
No, Sara says. Shes received threats before, but this is the
first time her family has been mentioned. The thought of any-
one coming after Emiliano or her mother makes her shudder.
But alongside fear, something like hope blooms in her chest. If
someone needs to threaten her about Linda, does that mean
shes still alive? She places the sheet of paper on the desk. I
mean, Linda was...is my best friend. Im still close to her fam-
ily. They live in my neighborhood, and I go with Mrs. Fuentes
to the State Police headquarters every couple of weeks. But Im
not doing anything about Linda thats related to my job.
Well, someone thinks youre investigating or writing
about her. Felipe leans back in his chair and touches the pocket
of his shirt, searching for the cigarettes he gave up smoking a
month before. Theres something weird about this threat. Its
like they know its you whos been writing the column.
There hasnt been a byline on the column since Saras arti-
cle on Linda, Juana says. No one knows its her.
You think those people can keep a secret? Felipe points
with his hand to the room full of cubicles outside his glass wall.
And what is this about family? Since when do families of
reporters get threatened? No more articles on missing girls.
Thats it.
Someone has to keep the memory of these girls alive,
Sara blurts out louder than she intends. She takes a deep breath
and looks into Felipes eyes. If we dont care about them, then
who will?
Sara, Juana says softly, Im with Felipe on this one. We
lost two reporters during the cartel wars. They were both

11
young and enthusiastic like you. She takes a deep breath. If
our articles were doing any good, maybe it would be worth the
risk. But has a single girl turned up since weve published these
profiles?
No, Sara says. But if nothing else, the families know
their daughters and sisters are not forgotten. That makes a
difference.
I dont want to be responsible for another dead reporter,
Felipe says with finality. No more articles on the Desaparecidas.
Theres more to life than just evil and pain, no? Think of some-
thing happy for a change. I want a proposal for a positive story
on my desk by the end of the day. To Juana he says, You bet-
ter clear your day tomorrow so we can finish that damn budget.
Thats all. Lets get to work.
Sara stands and walks out of the office. She needs to do
something before she speaksor worse, shoutsthe words on
the tip of her tongue. She heads for the stairs that connect El
Sols IT room to the main floor. They are dark and cool, as
expected.
She sits on one of the steps and grabs her head. Is it true
that all she can see is the suffering and injustice that need fix-
ing? She remembers her first column about Linda, the most
personal article shes ever written. It was a miracle that Juana
convinced Felipe to allow one of his reporters to write about
something that affected them. In the days that followed the
publication of the article, El Sol received dozens of letters
from families of missing girls. The article provided hope and
comfort to many, and the positive response convinced Juana
and Felipe that a regular column on the Desaparecidas was

12
 orthwhile. The column has been Saras way of keeping Linda
w
alive in her heartand Felipe just killed it.
Think of something happy for a change. Theres more to
life than just evil and pain, no?
She gets up and stands by the steel door that leads back to
the newsroom. After a few seconds, she takes a deep breath
and opens it.
Think of something happy for a change.
Yes, she can do that. Of course she can do that. Cant she?
She thinks of Mami, getting on with life after Pap left her,
making delicious cakes for a bakery. Or her brother, Emiliano,
falling in love for the first time, and how he squirmed and
blushed when Sara finally got him to tell her the name of the
girl hes smitten with. Just thinking about Emiliano makes
Sara happy. He was going down a bad path after Pap left, and
now look at him, helping other at-risk kids with his folk art
business. Thank God for Brother Patricio and the Jiparis.
The Jiparis, Sara thinks. Theyre like the Boy Scouts, hold-
ing long hikes out in the desert that save boys from delinquency.
Thats a feel-good story if there ever was one. She goes back to
her desk and types out a brief proposal; then she attaches it to
an e-mail and sends it to Felipe. A message from Juana appears
on her screen.

Lets talk. Can you come over now?

In her office, Juana gestures for Sara to close the door.

Sara sits down in one of the yellow plastic chairs in front of
the desk.

13
 Juanas voice is businesslike. Im sorry I didnt support
you in there. But this one scares me more than the other e-mails.
It mentions a specific girl, and it does seem to be directed at
you and...your family.
I agree with you that its written in a peculiar way, Sara
says. She doesnt tell Juana that the e-mail scared her too. Its
the first threat that uses we instead of I. Its as if it came from a
group or an organization of some sort.
Juana knits her eyebrows the way she does when shes try-
ing to read someone. Look, I know you, Sara, and I know that
regardless of Felipes ordersor mine, for that matteryoure
going to try to find out who and whats behind this. Dont. I
agree with Felipe. From all kinds of angles, this is not a good
idea. You are in danger, and I dont want anything to happen to
you. But also, Felipe is right. Its not good for business to be
pushing negative news right now. Were finally doing well
enough to hire a few more people. Were working six days a
week again. I want you to stand down, as they say in the armed
forces. Stand down completely.
You dont really mean that, Sara says. Thats not the
Juana Martnez I know, who always says where theres a bad
smell, theres a skunk, and its our job to find the skunks.
Theres a skunk behind this e-mail. I want to find it.
This time I think we need to live with the smell, Juana
says, looking away.
Juana. Sara leans forward, waits for Juana to look at her.
When the cartel wars were raging and every newspaper
reporter had been threatened, you were one of the few who
kept on. Even after El Sol lost two reporters, you continued
writing the truth. I remember reading your articles when I was

14
in grade school. Youre the reason I decided to be a reporter.
Your courage is why Im here. You cant want me to stop
looking.
Its different now, Juana says quietly.
How?
I told you already. This newspaper has to survive. Then,
as if regretting the tone of her words, Juana shakes her head.
Nothing I say is going to stop you, is it?
I cant give up, Sara says, thinking of Linda.
For a moment, Juana looks almost angry, but she says,
Keep me informed of everything. I mean everything. She
waits for Saras nod. This is not a request. It is an order from
your boss.
I will. I promise.
Here. Juana picks up a business card and hands it to
Sara. Call this guy. Hes constructing a new mall near
Zaragoza. I want you to do an article about why hes doing it
nowwhat signs he sees in the city and the economy that make
him think a new mall will succeed. Go to the site where he
plans to build it. Get some pictures.
Sara holds the card in front of her for a few seconds. Is
this for the happy article Felipe wants me to do? I sent an idea
to him a little while ago.
No, its a favor to someone whos willing to spend a lot on
advertising. This is a business, remember? We cant do any
good if were not in business. Do this one after you write the
one for Felipe.
Okay. Sara stands. Juana, can you forward the e-mail
with the threat to me? I want to study it a little more.
Juana reluctantly hits a few keys on her computer. As Sara

15
is leaving, she reminds her, Sara, the e-mail mentions the
reporters family. Your family.
Sara swallows and says softly, I know.

Back at her desk, Sara thinks for a long time. Does she really
want to pursue something that could affect Mami and Emiliano,
the two people she loves the most? They took so many precau-
tions after Sara received her first threat. Their address is not in
any public records. All the bills go to Sara at work. Juana is the
only person at El Sol who knows where she lives, and most
nights, Emiliano walks to her office after school and they take
a bus home together. Shes done all she can to protect herself
and her family. She did all that so she could continue to inves-
tigate the disappearance of Linda and so many other girls. She
owes it to them not to give up now. She will go slowly and care-
fully and stop if she senses any real danger. How can she stand
down, as Juana says, when Linda may be alive?
She forwards the threatening e-mail to Ernesto, the head of
El Sols two-person IT department, and asks him if theres any
way to figure out the identity of the sender. An hour later,
Ernesto calls. Just from a quick look, this e-mail was sent by
someone who knows a lot about encryption. The server
bounced the message around so no one can locate the sender. If
its okay with you, Ill send it to my friends. His friends are the
Jaqueros, a group of technology and computer experts he
knows. The Jaqueros helped her with an article she did on a
joint investigation between the FBI and the Mexican Attorney
Generals Office. They had access to e-mails and texts betweeen
cartel members and government officials that no one else
could get.

16
 Sara says what she always says when he offers to send
something to the Jaqueros: Okay, but dont break any laws.
He responds like he always does: Who do you think
we are?
After Ernesto hangs up, Sara answers his question silently:
Youre the people who will help me find my best friend.

17