MAY 7 . THREE DAYS MISSING
Really? I might be the last person who saw Tommy Smythe?
I didn’t hardly even see him, Sheriff. It was Friday afternoon. I was heading back to Fred. You know, Fred Johnson High, because of the Cinco de Mayo dress rehearsal. I had to—um, I had to go home right after school because, well, it was that time of the month and I had to change—anyway, I was driving back to Fred and I saw Tommy coming toward me on that red motorbike of his. Ruby. I heard he calls it Ruby. Isn’t that the weirdest? I mean, I named