At 4:10 p.m., Diego arrived at the place where he had left Pilar earlier. He scanned the intersection. Not seeing Pilar, he pulled out a fútbol magazine and flipped through the pages. When he glanced at his watch, he realized it was 4:25 p.m., and Pilar was still nowhere in sight. Perhaps she cannot see me, he thought. I will get out of the truck and walk around for a few minutes and look for her.
“It’s time to move on,” a traffic police officer said as he slapped the side of Diego’s truck. Diego walked slowly back to the vehicle, started the motor, and pulled out into the traffic. For an hour, he circled the monument again and again until he was almost out of gas.
What if Pilar is lost? The streets are confusing. Where did she say she was going? I do not think she told me. I was in such a hurry to get to the stadium that I did not notice which direction she walked. I should have stayed with her. I am so stupid!
Diego knew he would not be home before dark. He was less worried about his mother’s scolding than he was about his sister. He could not go home without her. He pulled into a gas station and filled the truck’s tank. He noticed a neighborhood police station in the next block. It was a typical nondescript concrete bunker of a building. Everyone had always told him that going to the police voluntarily could only lead to trouble, but he had to get help, and he didn’t know anyone in the city.
Entering the station, Diego saw four police officers standing around the room smoking cigarettes. The air in the room was thick and harsh with smoke. There was a small television propped on one of the desks, and they were all watching a fútbol game. The announcer spoke fast in a loud voice. It took a few minutes to get their attention. He yelled, “Pardon, señores!”
“What do you want?” a short, burly officer with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth finally asked Diego while looking over his shoulder at the television. He sounded irritated at being interrupted. The other men cheered a goal. “I am Lieutenant Juan Carlos Ruiz Perez, in charge of this station,” he said. Annoyed at having to look up at Diego, he straightened himself to his full height, though he still had to look up.
“Señor,” Diego said, loud enough to be heard over the noise. “I need help. I drove my sister into the city today. She wanted to shop for a surprise for her husband while I did some business for my father and went by the Estadio Azul for a few minutes. She was supposed to meet me at four at the Monumento a la Revolución. But she never came. I need to find her and take her home.”
“Hmmm, how old is your sister?”
“She is nineteen. She has a husband and baby in San José, and she wanted to be home before dark. They don’t know she was coming into Mexico City.”
“Why not?” the lieutenant asked.
“She said it was a secret.”
“From whom?” The lieutenant’s curiosity was piqued.
“From everyone.”
The lieutenant turned his head to cough a deep cigarette cough. Then he said, “Did she tell you where she was going to shop?”
“No, señor.”
“It seems strange she did not give you an address or ask you to stay with her. Mexico City is a dangerous place for young women alone.”
“She said she didn’t want to hold me up on my business.” After hesitating, he added, “She knows I like to watch the professional fútbol clubs practice. She was being considerate.”
“It doesn’t seem like you were being considerate of your sister, leaving a young woman from a small town alone in this part of Mexico City,” the lieutenant said sharply.
“I guess not, sir,” Diego replied, realizing how thoughtless he had been.
“Do you see any clothing shops or markets in this neighborhood?” the lieutenant asked Diego, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and looking hard at him. He was not smiling. “If the surprise was for her husband, why did she ask you to keep it a secret from everyone else?”
Diego looked down and shuffled his feet. Nevertheless, he tried to answer in a strong voice, “I don’t know, señor.” In the context of the lieutenant’s questions, he was starting to realize the oddness of Pilar’s actions and that his own conduct had been careless at best.
“You don’t know much, do you?” Lieutenant Ruiz stated as he walked into his small office and motioned for Diego to sit down in the chair across from his desk.
Sinking into the chair, Diego looked pleadingly at the officer. “Will you help me find her?”
“It’s too early to consider her a missing person,” Lieutenant Ruiz replied in his gruff voice, flicking the ashes and taking another drag on his cigarette. “That is, if she is lost. Perhaps this is just another case of a pretty young woman who got tired of living in the country and talked her brother, who doesn’t have a brain in his head, into helping her make a getaway to the city. She is probably meeting her lover here, and you will never see her again. On the other hand, she may get homesick or the lover may beat her, and she will run back to her husband in a few days. We see situations like this every day.”
“Pilar wouldn’t do that, señor,” Diego protested.
“Is her husband wealthy? A gang could be holding her for ransom.”
“No, he does not have any money. He lost his job recently.”
“Women have left their husbands for less,” the lieutenant sneered.
Lieutenant Ruiz seemed to be mulling over something, but then he abruptly said, “In any case, it’s late. Before you get into trouble yourself, go home and wait at least twenty-four hours. If she shows up, all is well. If she does not, come back, and I will fill out the paperwork for a missing person. Eventually the paperwork will get to headquarters, and maybe a search will begin. Now I need to get back to the game.”
“But …,” Diego whimpered.
The lieutenant coughed again, and this time the cough was even deeper. “Be careful driving home. The roads are unsafe after dark. Don’t pick up anyone. You hear me, boy?”
Diego felt like a fool. He could hardly make his legs walk out of the police station. He knew that Pilar had not run away with another man.
What else could have happened? She probably got lost. Surely some good person will help her, give her shelter, and bring her home. The police are not going to look for her.
It was dark when Diego left the police station. No one was on the street where he’d parked his father’s truck except for a few skinny stray dogs searching for food and two men dressed in jeans and leather jackets, leaning against a streetlight, smoking and casually perusing the streets. Something about them made him walk faster. With his long legs, Diego stepped quickly over the dogs and hurried to the driver’s side of the truck. He was anxious to get home. Inside the truck, he grasped the steering wheel hard and banged his head against it.
Why am I such a fuckup? What am I going to tell Alejandro? What will Mama and Papa say? They will be so angry with me! Diego’s body was shaking all over now.
The drive home seemed endless. Diego did not turn on the radio, worried that he might miss a sound that indicated banditos were following him as the lieutenant had warned. He kept going over the events of the day. He remembered that he had been late arriving at the meeting point. What if something happened to her in that ten minutes while she was waiting for me? Whatever happened, it is my fault!
When he reached San José and pulled into his street, it was past 1 a.m. Light enveloped his parents’ house. All the lights were on in Pilar and Alejandro’s house, too. In fact, the lights were on in most of the houses on the block. Neighbors stood in groups, talking. The local police chief’s car was outside the gate to his sister’s house.
Diego stopped the truck at the end of the street. He considered turning it around and driving anywhere far away.
No, I need to face up to this, he told himself, spitting out the gum he had been absently chewing. The important thing is to find Pilar. I deserve whatever punishment is coming to me.
“There is Diego!” Señor Marco, the neighborhood busybody who lived next door to his parents, yelled. Hearing him, his parents ran outside.
“Diego, Diego!”José shouted, waving his arms and stepping in front of the truck. His face looked drawn but relieved.
His mother was not far behind. Her eyes were red and swollen.
Opening the door, making the sign of the cross—more out of unconscious habit than intent—and taking a deep breath, Diego stepped down from the truck. Before he could say anything, his mother grabbed him and threw her generous arms around him.
“Gracias, Diós, you are all right,” she sobbed.
“Where have you been, Diego?” his father asked him, arms folded in front. “What excuse could justify you almost killing your mother with worry?”
Diego did not want his mother to let go. For the first time in nine hours, he felt safe.
“Oh, Diego,” his mother sobbed, “Pilar is missing! She said she was going to visit cousin Elena, but she never came home tonight. Alejandro is practically out of his mind with worry. The police are looking everywhere for her. The baby is at our house. She will not stop crying.”
Diego glanced at the front door of his home, where his brother stood in the doorway, holding Concepción, rocking her in his arms. They looked like limp, sad doll figurines. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. Oh, Pilar, where are you?