Ron Jones, senior case manager with the Virginia-based National<BR> Center for Missing and Exploited Children, says coverage can<BR> depend on how media-knowledgeable a family is. <P> "If you are media-savvy, you'll get more attention," says Jones, who<BR> has 15 years of experience as a case manager. "And a lot of the<BR> parents who don't know how to deal with the media, eventually they<BR> get the coverage, but not as fast as they would've if they had<BR> known." <P> He says the center treats all missing-children cases the same.<BR> When asked if the media and police may treat such cases<BR> differently, he said: "I hope not." But he added that "fresh cases" do<BR> get more attention. <P> Jones' job is to keep pictures of missing children in the public eye.<BR> First, he makes sure they are entered in the FBI's National Crime<BR> Information Center database. Then fliers are placed on the center's<BR> Web site (www.missingkids.com), which gets 3 million hits a day.<BR> Finally, they are placed with advertising mailers that are sent to as<BR> many as 85 million homes. <P> One day in May, Rebollar sorted through her mail and found a<BR> mailer with Laura's picture on it. It rattled her. She wept, thinking<BR> she never thought she would see one of her children on one. And<BR> then she placed the mailer on the altar. <P> Rebollar checks in with investigators who regretfully offer no new<BR> information. So she works as much as she can at her job packing<BR> plastics to stay busy. <P> Sometimes when she calls home from work, Rebollar thinks she<BR> hears Laura's voice, but it's one of her other children answering.<BR> She catches herself calling her other daughter by Laura's name. <P> In the evenings, Rebollar walks outside to the spot where Laura<BR> disappeared, hoping to see her daughter. She stands in the street<BR> and looks around at the gas station and the busy frontage road that<BR> leads to the East Loop and Interstate 45 and wonders where her<BR> daughter could be. <P> On the back porch, a large flier, about the size of a poster board and<BR> mounted on plywood, leans against the wooden fence. It used to sit<BR> on the right of way between the apartments and Loop 610, but a<BR> storm cracked it in two. Rebollar wants a new sign to post at the<BR> intersection. She hopes that if a new one is installed, someone might<BR> recognize Laura or remember seeing something that night. <P> "I don't lose hope," she says. "And I pray and ask for God's help to<BR> bring her back home." <P> Then, after praying, she'll lie down for the night. <P> "I dream about her," Rebollar says. "And she's always coming home<BR> through the back door." <P> No doubt with the clip-clopping sounds right on her heels. <P> Contact Daniel J. Vargas at daniel.vargas@chron.com.<P><a href="http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/story.hts/front/1500180";>http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/story.hts/front/1500180<;/a>