"I'm afraid that was the diagnosis." Max replied, sounding rather ashamed. "But the way I see it is this: see, people believe in guardian angels, and ask for prayers of deliverance all the time. They believe and depend on them." Max noticed by another of his short glances that she was hearing him out. "They even rely on religious conviction to keep order and sanctity in a world where each one of their lives aren't . . . really even a worth a spec in the world's past or present or future." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, when I was a boy, you were the answer to a prayer that I didn't know to pray."
The raw honesty and intensity of this philosophical speech left Ess more astounded than ever. Dwelling on it, taking it all in, was too much. There were too many conflicting observations that it brought forth. It was better to keep the explanation going. "So, what does all this have to do with this 'dangerous man' kidnapping me?"
Shame once more crossed Max's face. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back and undo it . . ."
She prompted him to continue his explanation rather than expound on his self-loathing apology, "But what did you do?"
"I created my Esther works and they drew attention. More importantly, they drew the attention of a wealthy man by the name of Marcus Angoli." Max needed to explain everything to make this woman understand. "When I was in college, I was encouraged by a professor to display my art in a local gallery. Mr. Angoli happened to be associated with the gallery and picked up on my works. They were paintings, all done in a Pre-Raphaelite Roman goddess theme . . . and they had your face.
He purchased the collection soon after they were placed on display. I was reluctant to sell, but I was a starving student at the time, and he wagged a lot of money in my face. I thought he liked my works in general, but over the years I noticed that the only works he actually acquired were of Esther – of you. You were like the unattainable movie star, only existing to be pined over.
I was taken to his estate once to manage a particular arrangement of some of the works. His home was like a fortress. Security cameras, guards . . . I never knew a place like that existed anywhere around here. Anyways, he has an entire room dedicated to the art he purchased from me, and there's a lot. He seems to have his own little obsession for you. Turns out, I wasn't the only one who thought highly of you. Except he didn't know that you were a real person. At least, not until you showed up at La Donne a couple of weeks ago." Another quick glance showed troubled shock on his passenger's face. He hated being the barer of such news, but it was better that she knew the danger.
"I hate going to the galleries and seeing my art on view, and I rarely go once the exhibit is opened, but Angoli insisted on meeting with me in person to discuss the purchase of my latest sculptures, because I did not want to sell them. Unfortunately, he was determined to have them, and, of course, he won out in the end. I'm ashamed to say that he threw a lot of money in my face again, and I couldn't refuse."
"Eighty thousand dollars? I can't say that I blame you." Ess commented quietly.
Max was surprised. "How did you know?"
Ess replied, "I tried to buy them myself. I didn't want them on display. They have my face . . . and the nude! I was embarrassed." Now it was Max's turn to be embarrassed.
"I didn't mean to be derogatory." He explained, "It's not porn. It's art. The ultimate beauty is the uninhibited human body. I was trying to emphasize beauty, not sexuality."
Ess just responded with a nod. Her chin was set and her eyes unreadable. Max couldn't tell if she accepted his justification or not. So, he decided to move on.
"Well, when you walked into the gallery it caused a little stir. Not a lot, but enough to bring you to Angoli's attention. I was too stunned myself to notice his reaction when he saw you. I didn't realize that it would be such a revelation to him as it was to me."
If Ess felt appalled and disturbed before, what he had to say next would really distress her. "Now here is the shocking part that I am most embarrassed to tell you, but please don't be mad." He paused for another deep breath. "Once I saw you, I couldn't just let you walk away again. I looked for you for so long, in classrooms, in crowded halls and stores, in every face I passed on the street. And finally, when I wasn't looking, you appeared.
I had to follow you. I told myself that I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and that you were happy with your life. I just wanted to look in on you from time to time, sort of like a guardian angel.
So, I trailed you and your friends to the café, and followed you home. Everything seemed well enough. You're life was simple and quiet. You seemed safe." Ess looked at him, her brow furrowed in disappointment over his description of her life. Her life was simple, and it was small, but she couldn't say that she was exactly happy about it.
"After I made this estimation, I tried to back off. I thought I had control of myself by this point in my life, but the pull was . . . it was . . . overwhelming. After only a day, I started finding excuses to pass by your neighborhood, though it's really not on my way anywhere. I discovered where you worked and shopped, the route you took home after work. I noticed that, on the days you left your job before dark, you would take a longer route home so that you could go through the park. The autumn leaves are starting to turn, and the scent of the fading summer is unbelievable right now. I imagined that you were enjoying the charm of it as much as I did. It seemed to me like you were in your element there." He caught himself going off on a tangent, and stopped himself.
The astute assessment he made of her rambles through the park surprised her. She was also alarmed. The accuracy of this study of her was very disturbing.
"I'm sorry. That's just the artist in me. Anyway, a few days ago, I began to notice that I wasn't the only one watching you. There was another man persistently observing you, and he always seemed to be nearby. I started watching him watch you. He got bolder as the week wore on. By this afternoon, he was letting you see him, too. He even ran into you a few times."
"The man who came to my apartment," Ess put it together. "Chad!" She was angry. She never contemplated that she was interesting enough to draw attention, and now she found out that she had an audience?
"That's the guy."
"But then who was the other guy?" Ess asked. "The one who hit him over the head?"
If Ess could see his face illuminated by more than the glow of a dashboard, she would have seen it turn a bright red. This was the part Max was most upset about.
"That," his voice cracked in humiliation, "was me."
"You?" Ess looked at him as closely as she dared. That scene in the apartment happened so quickly that the man's face had been a blur. She couldn't put this man's face to the one who had wrapped his arms around her and stifled her scream.
"I was trying to come to your rescue. I scared you and the whole thing went badly. I'm sorry." He had to stop apologizing so much or she would stop believing his sincerity. "I didn't realize the guy – Chad – had an accomplice. By the time I reached for you keep you from screaming and to try to help you recover yourself, the other man managed to enter the apartment and – judging from the fact that he shot at us on the road earlier – he must have hit me in the head with the back of his gun or something. He probably would have shot me then and there if the noise wouldn't have caused alarm amongst the neighbors.