"I knew early on that he was mine, but I never made any claim on him. As I said, he was a bastard, and Marcus Angoli does not father bastards." He continued to lead Ess around the room.

"Interesting story, wouldn't you say? It gets better, though, because you come into it." He paused to see if she understood the compliment, but she didn't acknowledge it, so he continued. "Though I never recognized him as my son, I always kept a loosely curious eye on him. I watched him grow up as a ward of the state, and work his way through college, observing him struggle to make ends meet. He has a voracious will to survive, you know. He gets that from me." It was a peculiar show of pride from a man who would not declare his paternity to his son.

"Eventually, I decided to bestow a little kindness on him, and I found the perfect opportunity to do so. While he was still a student of the arts, he happened to display a few pieces in a gallery I was associated with. I thought I'd throw a little money his way, in return for his works.

"Needless to say, I was quite pleased with his art. More of his earlier pieces are over here."

He pointed to some exquisitely detailed renderings of Ess in Roman garb posing in very dramatic scenes as a goddess to be adored. It was yet another unsettling moment that Ess found herself the figure of attention.

"Really, I was only expecting to put them into storage, or maybe a little nook somewhere if they were decent enough, but I was truly impressed. And, so, I placed them here in my personal gallery.

"Over time, I found a few more opportunities to lend Max a hand. His works typically had you in mind, so I managed to keep with the 'Esther Art' theme by purchasing them. It became obvious that Max had an obsession with this woman who found her way into his creations. Apparently, obsession is a trait that runs in our family." He then expressed his amusement at what he thought to be a very humorous observation by releasing a polite chuckle.

"After only a few years your face took over every corner of my gallery. But, though I watched Max more and more intently, I never saw the model for his works. There never seemed to be a real person in his life that inspired him. I thought you simply to be a figment of his remarkable imagination.

"Now, I finally find that you were not simply in his head after all. When you walked into the gallery, my heart seized with delight." As he turned himself towards her, he pulled her hand to his chest, which brought her intimately closer to him. "One moment I was enticed by an illusive and exquisite nude temptress, wishing for soft warm skin rather than cold hard stone, and the next moment there you were, in the flesh. My wish had come true."

He attempted to stroke his fingers across her cheek, but Ess pulled away with a shudder. The embarrassing redness of her ill-timed blush warmed her face once again. Instead of becoming irritated, Angoli just laughed. "I'll give you time to get used to me." He allowed her to put a little distance between them. "Back to my story."

He grabbed her arm again, and continued their stroll around the room. "Where was I? Yes, yes. The gallery. The odd thing was Max's reaction. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost. It appeared that he had not expected your presence, either. Of course, when you left, he became distracted and excused himself from our meeting. I was distracted myself. I had to work fast in order to make sure you were followed. The two weeks I had you watched were torture. I wanted so terribly just to take you at once, but I know that I can't always get what I want just by taking it. There has to be a method, a procedure to acquiring something if I have any hope of keeping it. I couldn't have any witnesses, anyone who'd interfere with my intensions.

"But Max was watching. I should have expected it. It never crossed my mind that he would actually get in my way, but apparently, he saw what was happening. Now he's got others involved, and has interfered with my plans." Anger stormed across his face. He didn't bother to hide his furious emotions this time, as the wheels turned in his head.

His voice rose and the rhythm of his words quickened with the intensity of his newly roaring fury. "Now there are people who know you are here, who know what I have taken," he continued to fume. "Martin should have disposed of them out there in the woods. It would have been a perfect opportunity, and yet he did not take it. That boy has no backbone; and now I'll have to send others to finish what he could not. Damn it. I wanted this done and over with by now.

"With all my goddamn money, why is it that I can't I seem to get just what I want?"

With that, he dropped her arm and strode over to a phone on a side table. Picking it up, he spat directions into the receiver, "Owen, I want you and your men to get back out there, and find Max and his companions. Bring Max here and get rid of the others . . . Do whatever you need to do. And dispose of the evidence."

He appeared to throw a very well-controlled temper tantrum, but emitted a dangerous aura, nevertheless. Ess became afraid for more than just herself at hearing the words he had just spoken into the phone. He was going to have them killed: Manda and Dr. Roden. He was sending his henchmen out to do it.

With all that had happened to her in the last forty-eight hours, Ess thought she should have learned to control her tendency to panic by now. Leaning over, she began sucking in large gulps of breath to try to regain her calm. She needed to remain composed. She had to do something. She couldn't let two innocent people be murdered. What could she do? There seemed to be nothing she could do until she made her own escape.

She had to think, and she needed oxygen to do so. So she kept taking in deep breaths. Think, damn it, think!

* * *

"Turn here." Martin gave his direction at the last moment, and Roden had to slam his foot on the brake. Still, he missed the turn. Irritated at Martin's ill-timed instruction, Roden pulled to the side of the road, and made a u-turn.

When their eyes met in the rearview mirror, Martin's look of amusement got under Roden's skin. The younger man continued to enjoy this whole situation, while the psychiatrist's self control wore thinner and thinner. Roden actually contemplated choking the man after this miserable affair was over with, but decided that he would be satisfied with just a good solid punch in that jackass's face.

That Martin still found diversion in what had been happening was disturbing to everyone involved. Before they even began their drive, Max had searched Martin's person for the gun, and took it away from him; and when he presented the Rohypnol as part of the plan for taking care of the dogs, that had been confiscated, as well. It had to be obvious that no one in the car liked him; and his own employer didn't even trust him to finish a job. Max gave him a pounding earlier, and would in all likeliness resume the beating once they rescued Ess. And yet, this man always had a smirk, always found the joke in everyone's frustration.

What made him so complacent in such a serious predicament? Roden was displeased with their unfortunate reliance on this tactless man. He didn't trust him, and knew that he needed to keep his eye on the (nearly) good-for-nothing troublemaker.

"How much further?" Roden didn't feel any desire to hide his frustration, though he knew it just added pleasure to Martin's entertainment.

"Not much farther," Martin smiled back. "Just keep following the road for about an hour. Angoli's house is at the end. There's nothing else along the way, so you'll know when you're close."