Free Capitol Punishment (An Art Jefferson Thriller Book 3) by Ryne Douglas Pearson Page A

for fifteen minutes. About Tanya’s murder. About his wife’s spiral into a bottomless depression. About Moises’ destructive behavior. About it all.
    And Anne listened, wanting to cry at times. Remembering the news stories, how terrible it had seemed then, and now a living victim of that massacre was here with her, begging for salvation.
    Then, as quickly as he began laying out the state of his life, Darren stopped. He was dry. The dam had burst and had let out all that was behind it. His desire for death was no longer there, but the aching he felt for his family was.
    “I’m sorry,” Anne said, offering the first words one could after hearing Darren speak of his life, and of his loss.
    “Thank you for listening.”
    “I’m not done listening,” Anne said. She had to do this.
    “What do you mean?” Darren asked.
    “You need to talk more. Your family needs to talk. And you need someone to help you with that.”
    She was right, Darren knew. But it all seemed so alien now—normalcy. How could they get that back from talking? And there were other considerations. “Thank you, Dr. Preston, but I can’t... I work hard as it is, and with the lawyer’s fees and my wife’s medication, I can’t...”
    “Don’t worry about that,” Anne said. “We need to help your family first, and think about the other things later. I’ll make you a deal, though. If you want to do this, I’ll forget the fee if you and your family come to my house for dinner when we have everybody on the right track again. I’d consider that payment enough. You see, I love to cook, but my girl is grown and my boyfriend is into that health-food junk.” She made a face that translated plainly to Darren. It also elicited a smile. “Deal?”
    Darren wanted to cry again, but for very different reasons than before. “Deal. Thank you, Dr. Preston.”
    Anne handed him one of her cards. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll set up a first appointment.”
    “Okay.” Darren put the card away and smiled again. How long had it been since he smiled twice in one day? He couldn’t remember. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
    Anne watched Darren walk away, passing Rabbi Levin, who was entering.
    “My God, Anne, what did you do to that man in fifteen minutes?” Levin asked. “When I left he looked like the world had fallen on him. Now he’s smiling.”
    “The world did fall on him,” Anne said. “Remember the St. Anthony shooting?”
    “The church on Crenshaw? Of course. How could anyone forget that? Four children killed.” Levin’s head shook. His grandparents had been dragged from a synagogue in Warsaw more than fifty years before and sent to their death. Now there was death in a place of worship. The senselessness of it.
    “His daughter was one of them,” Anne said, hating the reality of it. “Tanya Griggs.”
    “Oh dear God. No.”
    Anne nodded. “After it happened he began feeling a deep hate for white people, something he’d never experienced. It scared him. He wanted it to stop, because he was starting to hate himself for hating others because of their color. Plus his family is in ruins.” She really shouldn’t say anymore, Anne knew. “I’m hoping I can help him, and his family.”
    Levin felt ill thinking of the destruction that had been wrought upon this family. Hate. It was the worst of things. Combine it with ignorance and you had a very dangerous force. That was why he had arranged for Anne to speak to members of his flock. They were good people, but they were becoming less and less sensitive to the danger of misplaced hate. The evil they saw in the world was disproportionately of a darker hue, and they were beginning to transfer their fear of real violence to fear of anyone who looked like the criminals plastered on the news. Compassion was fading from their belief systems. That frightened Levin, because it was the same thing that had happened in Nazi Germany so long ago. Induced fear became hate. Then it became