Carmen âLuzâ Cordero, age 23, was a girl who neither wanted nor needed much. One day about a month ago in August, she stopped answering messages from her best friend Andrew Kowalski, whom she normally talked to every day.
She hadnât shown up to any of her classes since. The last time Andy heard from her â the night before all contact ceased â she hadnât said or done anything unusual: sheâd gone out to the movies with some friends, gotten dinner, and headed home alone on her bike. Her roommates said she never arrived. So far the bike hadnât turned up.
In the most recent photo Andy had been able to provide, she had sunbaked bronze skin, bold black eyebrows, dark eyes, and straight black hair chopped in a pixie cut. She wore barrettes in her bangs, a different pastel nail polish on every short fingernail, handmade beaded bracelets on her wrist, no makeup (that Walsh could tell, but he wasnât an expert), and she was dressed in a bright orange sweatshirt with some anime girls on the front. She beamed at the camera beside Andyâs matching grin (sunglasses on) while making bunny ears behind his head.
Carmen was going to university, majoring in geology and minoring in library science. Sheâd been a gymnast since she was a small child, and according to Andy she had a shelf full of medals and trophies in her room; she was also into creative writing, roller derby, jiu jitsu, dirt biking, and soccer, and sometimes cosplayed at various conventions, for which she had also occasionally won awards. From the glowing review of her closest friend, she was a straight-A student and an incorrigible perfectionist who kicked ass at everything she did and got along with nearly everybody. She was nerdy, she was sporty, she was smart, she was courageous, and she was kind â above all, she was someone everybody wanted to know or be, and she had no enemies to speak of. At least, as far as Andy knew.
He really hoped the parents didnât have anything to do with whatever had happened to Carmen.
Mrs. Griffin lived a 22 hour drive away in Phoenix with her second husband and two younger children who had no contact with their half-siblings in Deleven. Mr. Cordero didnât yell or hit his kids, Andy said, but he was impossible to please: he ignored or downplayed all of Carmenâs achievements, and blamed her older brother for their mother leaving.
The brother was apparently a touchy subject. Heâd dropped out of high school and left home in his teens, and had stayed close with his sister until his mental health had tanked and their relationship became strained. Andy said they hadnât spoken much for the past five years.
If only he could talk to the brother and see if he'd spoken to Carmen since her disappearance. Andy said he was hard to reach by anybodyâs standards. Which was one way to put it. Another way to put it was that there were no references to Jackson Israfel Cordero newer than 2093 in any records databases to which Walsh had access.
