The university library emptied at nine.

Most students left long before that. By 8:40 the only sounds left were the soft hum of the overhead lights and the occasional squeak of a cart wheel. I had a late shift in the archives section—re-shelving, logging returns, locking the rare-book cases. It was quiet work. I liked it that way.

Mr. Harlan Voss was the head librarian for the special collections floor. Mid-forties, tall, always in dark sweaters or button-downs with the sleeves rolled once. He spoke very little to the student workers unless something was out of place. Most people found him intimidating. I found him difficult to stop watching.

That...