Did it for you

Marksville, Texas

1996

Being a librarian is not the most glamorous of jobs, but in a town like Marksville, there aren’t many options. Each day is almost exactly the same, and today would be no exception. I’ve grabbed my just okay coffee, and I can already see the little brick building in the distance.

Setting my belongings down at my desk, I begin preparing everything before the first customers arrive. “Mornin’, Moira!” A boisterous voice calls out from the back room. There is only one other person who would be here earlier than I.

“Hey there, Mr. Cyrus,” I reply with a smile.

“I finished up fixin' the lights, and I went ahead and picked up everythin’ in the return box for ya.” I look under my desk to see the basket of returned books already there.

“Well thank you very much, Sir." My arms strain at the weight of the books as I lift them on top of the desk.

The work goes quickly, but there’s just one book missing: Small Town Terror: The Chilling Case of Judy Blake. Back in 1979, a little girl was missing until the police found her body in the woods. To this day, no one knows who did it. Local officers patrolled each night looking for suspicious activity. News crews filmed us like extras in their latest story.

I try to find who checked it out, but all I find is a phone number. So I pick up the telephone and punch in the number. One, two, three rings. Nothing, straight to message.

It’s been a dull few weeks at the library. In that time, though, I've left countless messages to that nameless book thief. I start locking up for the day, my bag hanging down on my already sore shoulders, only to stumble on something solid in front of the doorway. I found the book I’d lost hope of getting back. Something slips out as I pick it up. It’s a small Post-it saying 'sorry I’m late’ alongside a wad of cash.

“If you were really sorry maybe you’d put it in the box.” I mutter to myself, annoyed that I’d have to go all the way back through the dark just to put it in the right place. I pocket the money and the note and shove the book in my backpack for later.

Once I make it home to my one-bedroom apartment, I heat up a microwave meal and get ready for my reruns on my beat-up yellow couch. As I’m eating, the cover of the book peaking out of my bag catches my eye. Its cover displays a simple photo of Judy, probably picked out from an old yearbook, and the title is written in blood red. It wouldn’t hurt to check through it real quick to save future me some time. I open it up to find pen marks all over, whole sentences scratched through, and rough annotations sprawl across each and every page. Whoever did this knew details about her family that I've never heard of before. The worst of it, though, was the section about Judy’s murder and the crime scene itself. The ripped and tattered pages are barely holding onto the binding.

‘She was a cute little thing, but was dumb as a rock. Got one glimpse of candy and practically leaped in the car’

‘She was just like my little girl’

How could someone write so casually about this? How could they know all this? But what I’m really wondering is who the hell checked this out? With just a phone number left behind, there was no way I’d be able to find them on my own.

One ring, two rings… “Hello?”

“Hey, Mr. Cyrus, I um- I’ve got a little bit of a problem, and I didn’t really know who else to call.” I keep my voice as level as I can, but he knows me too well. His already friendly tone turns even more gentle.

“You don’t even gotta tell me, sweetheart. I’ll be over there in two seconds.” He hangs up before I can thank him. He’s always reminded me of my own father before he left. My parents didn’t have the best relationship, and he was always out on the other side of town for ‘work’. Then there was the whole Judy incident, and I guess the stress all across town was the straw that broke the camel's back. He left us in the middle of the night a few days later.

A knock drags me out of my thoughts. Mr. Cyrus comes in with a concerned expression, and I hand him the book. “I found this on my way out and…I don’t even know what happened.” I pass him the book and watch as he silently skims through the pages. His rough, aged, fingers flick through it gently. “I’ve been looking for this for weeks, and next thing I know it’s just left out by the door with this inside”. I pull the cash and note out of my pocket.

His face remains unchanging as he reads on, save for the occasional twitch of the brow. “Well, I’ll be…” He gently closes it and places it on the coffee table. “Listen here, first thing in the mornin’ I’m gonna go down to the station and get this all straightened out. Okay? For all we know it could be some messed-up prank.” My breath slows slightly for once at his calming words. He’s always had a way with de-escalating even the worst of situations.

“You’re right— No, yeah, you’re right.” I stand and he follows after. “It’s late. I shouldn’t keep you long, but thank you for coming over. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His arms wrap around me like a father consoling his child. My shoulders drop from the comfort he brings.

I thank him again before he leaves, and I shut the door quietly behind him. My eyes catch on the book sitting on the table, but I force myself to walk away before it can consume my thoughts for the rest of the night. Try as I may, though, sleep managed to escape me as I replay the sight of each vandalized page.

I’m finally able to rest just before sunrise, but before I know it, a knock at the door startles me awake. All traces of grogginess are erased after a deep, authoritative, voice calls out. “Marksville Police Department. We’d like to have a word with you real quick.”

“Coming, officer!” I shout out as I hurriedly pull on an old hoodie and jeans. Once I look like a functional human again, I open the door.

The officer stands stiffly in front of the door, his dark skin standing out against the slight frost on the grass. “Morning, my name’s Officer Williams. Your friend came in and told us you found something.” His eyes rake across my little apartment with trained precision.

“Yes, sir, I did. I’ve got it right over here.” I pick the book up from the table and hand it to him. As he quickly inspects it, I recount how I had found it. “Do you think it’s fake?”

He sighs deeply, “Could be, but I’m gonna have to take this in. We’ve gotta take anything we can with this case.” He tucks the book under his muscular arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can remember? Maybe any suspicious characters?”

I rack my brain for anything I could have forgotten. “Nothing’s sticking out, but the more I think about it…the handwriting looks kind of familiar.” Officer Williams quirks a brow at that.

“Familiar? What do you mean by that?” He questions. Something in the back of my mind keeps nagging at me about it.

“Yeah, I feel like I’ve seen it before. I might have just seen someone at the library write like this.” I hold my hand out, silently asking if I could see the book. He hands it to me, and I flip through. “See this though? They write in print, but all of their O’s have the little cursive squiggle at the top.”

He leans in close to see what I mean. “I guess that’ll help narrow it down quite a bit.” I handed the book back to him. “Thank you for all the information, Miss. Henley. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on all this. For now, keep your eye out, and if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to reach out”

Days pass with no leads on the book, but they’ve gotten word out to some of the neighboring towns just in case whoever’s responsible made their way out there. I’ve just been going through the motions since I found that stupid book.

As I go through my old, monotonous, routine, I finally get a call. The shrill ringing of the phone on the wall cuts through my silent home. I rush to pick it up. “Hello?…” I hear the smooth voice of the officer through the receiver as he gives me the first breakthrough since he last saw me. Apparently, an anonymous tip was given from the town just North of us, Redwater. Someone spotted a handmade ‘No Trespassing’ sign that matched the unique handwriting from the book. A small squad of our local officers has just been sent out to investigate.

Once I hang up I immediately give another call to Mr. Cyrus asking him to come over for lunch. He gets here quickly and I let him in. “Hey, kiddo. How ya holding up?” He asked me.

“Honestly, I'm not really. I go to work, and all I can think of is the book. Then I come home, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. I’ve got this weird, sick, feeling that something bigger is going on, and…and I wish I could go back to before it all went wrong. Before the book. Before the murder. Before dad left…” Mr. Cyrus’s eyes soften as he listens to me.

I wrote letters after he left. Mom let me for a while, and he wrote back. That is, until he stopped. The letters disappeared one day. I haven't heard from him since, and I’ve had no intention of finding him.

“I know things are scary right now, kid, but you know I’ll always be here. Always have been, always will be.” He goes up to the side table and opens the drawer. His hand rummages through, and I don’t know what he’s doing until he pulls out a small stack of paper. My letters. “Sometimes it’s okay to go back for a little while.” He hands them to me, and I slowly open the first envelope addressed to a house in Redwater. I read through it quietly, but my brow furrows as I open the rest of them. My eyes scan each page with growing urgency.

“The O’s…they’re all in cursive.” The color drains from my face as I piece everything together. The handwriting. The address. The abandonment.

I stand from the couch, my brain processing so many things at once. “I…I need to go. I’ll be back soon.” I grab my keys, leaving Mr. Cyrus alone in the apartment, and drive to the police station at a barely legal speed. I rush inside searching for Williams, and I slam the papers on his desk. He jumps at the sound and looks up at me confused. “Is this where you sent them?” I point aggressively at the envelope. “Is this where you sent that team?!”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? How did you get that?” He tries to de-escalate my mixture of panic, anger, and fear. “Where…Where the hell did you get something like this?” He examines the papers frantically.

“They’re mine. It’s all mine. I.. I know who wrote it. H-he killed Judy. He lied to me. He….” My breath picks up until I’m practically hyperventilating, and the puffiness in my eyes grows slowly. “He did it. My dad did it all.”

Williams' eyes widen as his muscles freeze in place. “What the hell are you talking about, Moira? I need you to calm down. Okay? We can’t get answers if you’re not breathing.” Once he gets me to breathe a bit better, I explain absolutely everything to him from start to finish.

“I need to go. I’ve gotta see him. I need answers”

“Moira, this is insane. I mean, the evidence is pretty damning. I’ll drive up there myself, but you need to stay here at the station. If your dad was able to get that book to you, then he knows exactly where you are and what you’re doing. It’s not safe.” I tell him that I’ll stay here, but once he’s gone I book it to my car and speed down the back ways out of town.

It’s about an hour drive, but my adrenaline never falters even as I park in the street in front of a run-down, red, house. The sign Officer Williams had told me about was hanging on the metal fence.

There are no police cars in sight, so I can only assume I somehow beat Williams here, but he should be here any minute. I undo the flimsy chain holding the metal fence. My feet move me forward with no forethought of my own safety. Before I know it, I’m banging on the door. A gruff voice inside shouts at me to go away, but I’m not leaving without answers. I knock again, but get the same response in a more aggressive tone. I hit harder a third time. “Open the door!” I shout back at him.

A string of curses comes from inside as I hear him approach the door. He flings it open with an old shotgun in his grip. “I told you to get off my damn—” He silences and weakens his grip on the gun when he sees me. “Mo?… Wh-what are you doin’ here?” He lowers the weapon completely.

“I’m here for the truth.” My voice stays firm no matter how scared of him I am. “Did you leave me that book? Did you write all that?”

A small smirk forms on his face when I bring up the book. “Did you like my little gift? I never thought you’d figure out it was me, but I’m so glad you’re home, babygirl. Come in, come in.” He ushers me inside, and I follow hesitantly. “I’m so glad you’re here, baby.”

I hold back a cringe at the endearments. “Why? Why would you do this?”

“What? A father can’t just want his little girl to pay him a visit?” Every word he says adds to my confusion.

“But you said you thought I wouldn’t figure it out.” I try to get anything out of him that I can.

His head bobs side to side. “Well, y’know, it was just to mess with you a little, but there was that little part…I wanted to see if you could do it.”

My brow furrows. “So this was, what? A test?” He tries to step closer to me, but I keep my distance. “I just need to know. Did you murder Judy Blake?”

My question makes him sigh with a huff. “That’s such a nasty word. Murder. I’d say I got her away from those god awful parents of hers.” He settles down on an old leather seat as I stay planted on the other side of the room.

“They were bad, bad, people, Mo.”

“And you’re not?” I ask softly. “Murdered a little girl, abandoned your family…”

“That was all for you, baby,” He says sternly to me. “I saved your life by killing that girl. It would’ve been you if I had never found her. Same curly hair, same pale skin, same age. I had to kill her, so it wasn’t you. You’re welcome.”

I’m about to respond when a banging on the door interrupts. My dad’s eyes darken. “What the hell did you do? Who followed you?”

The banging returns. “This is the MPD open up, Mr. Henley!”

“You filthy little—” He leaps off the couch and lunges towards me right as the door busts open. Officer Williams rushes in at the sight of me fighting off my father, and he manages to shove him off me. I managed to back away from them.

The two men wrestle with each other. Fists colliding in a blur. Williams reaches for his gun, but he’s quickly overpowered. Before I know it, bang….my father gets his hands on it and shoots Williams in the thigh.

He doubles over in pain. Falling to the floor, he tries to get back up, but the bullet lodged in his leg is too painful. All I can do is watch as my father stalks closer to him, gun in hand. He raises it up aiming for the head. “I’m not letting you take her from me, pig.”

Bang

Bang

Bang

Three shots pierce through the air. My ears ring, my hands shake, and I stumble back from the recoil. My dad crumples to the floor motionless. I’m suddenly aware of the weight of his shotgun in my arms. I don’t even remember moving, but here I am. Gun in my hands, Officer Williams was already calling for backup on his radio, and my dad face-first on the ground. It’s finally silent.

The rest of the day is a blur. I know I’m back home. I know my dad is dead. I sit in my apartment, Mr. Cyrus beside me with dinner he brought for me and the remote in his hand flicking through channels. I stand up silently and head over to the lit fireplace. “Is something wrong, kid?” He asks me. I pick up the old letters and the book that the officer let me keep.

“Nope…” I toss them both into the small fire. “Everything’s just fine now.”