Twenty-five minutes later I sat in my car at Calvert Road Park, clutching the file as I waited for the black compact to appear.

I had the radio on low. I could make out Billy Joe Armstrong of Green Day singing a request that someone wake him up when September ended. I was beginning to feel that way about October. The last couple of weeks had passed slowly as molasses. I glanced at my watch and looked around the parking lot. No other cars. Nothing to duck behind, not in the lot anyway. I swiveled round to scan the trees behind me. At one end of the lot were restrooms in a nondescript building with a shabby forest-green roof.

I didn't see anyone. I tried to calm myself by singing along with Billy Joe.

I watched a black car reach the entrance and turn into the lot.

"Summer has come and passed," I sang. "The innocent can never last . . . ."

The car pulled in front of mine. Diesel was behind the wheel. I could see the top of Tina's head. She slouched in the passenger seat.

"Wake me up . . . when October ends," I took some poetic license with the words and turned off the radio. I opened the door and slid out with the file. Diesel emerged from the black car, unfolding his bulk until he stood looking as friendly as a blond grizzly bear.

Holding the file up for inspection, I said, "Here it is. Is Tina all right?"

He raised his chin a fraction in acknowledgment, then reached into the car and yanked Tina out by her arm. Holding her tight to him, he walked her around the back of his car.

Tina looked terrified, but unharmed. I stepped a few feet from my car and waited. As he approached, he pulled a gun from under his jacket and pressed the barrel against Tina's temple. She whimpered and sniffled, her face wet with tears. I focused on appearing confident, in charge. I tried to convey my false confidence to Tina by looking her in the eye and thinking, It'll be all right . . . it'll be all right.

"I hope that's all of it," he said.

I nodded and moved a little to his left, slowly. "I can show you, if you like."

Diesel pivoted. He faced me, Tina held in front of him as a shield. "Of course, I like," he said, the scorn plain in his voice. "I want to see it all."

He moved closer. I stepped back.

"Can I put this on your trunk?"

He nodded and I moved toward his car, placing the file on it and fiddling with the contents. Diesel kept rotating so I was always in his line of sight. I made sure not to stand directly in front of him.

Now would be nice, I thought.

As if I'd willed it to happen, two popping sounds came from the woods. Diesel lurched and stiffened, blood spraying from two holes, one on each side of his chest. And inches from Tina's head. He moaned as his arms went lax. Tina managed to wriggle free before he collapsed to the pavement. She ran to me, sobbing, and threw her arms around me. I hugged her and said, "It'll be okay now."

Little D emerged from behind the building and walked over, gripping a handgun with a long-barreled silencer, and picked up Diesel's gun. "Nice job," he said. "You got him in exactly the right place for me to take my shots." He gestured toward the bathrooms.

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to think about what we'd done.

Little D checked the compact's ignition. "Ah-ight. Keys still here." He got in and started it, pulling it forward a few feet to allow me to leave. He switched off the motor and got out.

"You gots to go now," he said.

"Thanks for coming, D," I said. I looked at Diesel, who lay twitching and prone on the pavement, his breathing labored. "What . . . .?"

"Don't ask," he said.

Tina was still crying softly, clinging to me like a life raft. I disengaged myself from her grasp, while keeping an arm around her shoulder, and led her to my car. We got in and drove away, without looking back.

*****

Thirty minutes hadn't given me much time to prepare, but it was just enough to make some calls and run to the office for the file. I'd tried calling CID and couldn't reach a detective. Rather than waste precious time on police bureaucracy, I'd hung up and called Little D.

He said he would park far from the meeting place and approach the lot from the woods. He assured me he could make it. I didn't know he had until I heard the shots.

We hadn't discussed what would happen. And I hadn't given it much thought. As I drove off with Tina beside me, I was struck by my lack of concern that Diesel was a dead man. Seemed like I should feel guilty, but I felt only relief, sweet relief.