“I remember the day John learnt that Keesha wasn’t his daughter.” Mrs Tonder sobbed, as the group of mourners sat surrounding her. “He was shattered. He cried. Keesha is his favourite child,” Mrs Tonder continued, as she brought her tea mug up to her lips. She took one easy sip, then put it down. “Was. Was his favourite daughter.” One of the mourners, who was Mrs Tonder’s cousin, corrected.
“Do not speak of her in the past tense!” Mrs Tonder shouted, spilling her tea. Everyone went quiet. You could hear a feather drop to the floor. The group of mourners sipped their tea, in silence. “He was never meant to find out, you know, Keesha wasn’t supposed to know too. It’s just that Harry came back, and started demanding to see his daughter,” Mrs Tonder sobbed. “John is a good man,” she continued, trying hard to wipe the tea she’d spilled.
“Will anyone else say it?” her cousin, Lambert, jumped in. The group of mourners went quiet.
“John isn’t a good man! If he was, he wouldn’t have killed Keesha then hid her body!” Lambert shouted.
“He Didn’t kill her!” Mrs Tonder defended her husband, who was now in jail.
“He did! Did you read that letter he wrote?” Lambert asked.
“I read it. He, he wouldn’t do any of the things he wrote,” Mrs Tonder said.
“Well he did the things he wrote! He killed your daughter. Your only daughter! He deprived your son of his only sister!” Lambert shouted.
“Stop it!” Mrs Tonder cried.
“You’ve always been weak, Mary. Always. Always trying to see the good in people,” Lambert said, sinking her teeth in one of the scones.
“He couldn’t. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. My daughter isn’t dead,” Mrs Tonder wept. Just then, a group of police men and women came bursting through the front door.
“We’ve found her,” one of the police women said, looking at Mrs Tonder. They all stood up.
“Where is she?” Mrs Tonder asked, her eyes staring at the door.
“We need you to come identify her,” a police woman said.
“Identify? Why didn’t she tell you who she was?” Mrs Tonder asked.
“Because, we suspect she’s passed on,” the policewoman said.
“Passed?” Suddenly it all dawned on Mrs Tonder. “Was she wearing a black jean and white sneakers and shirt, the day her father took her out?” the police asked.
“It’s her. It’s her. John specifically chose those clothes for her.” Mrs Tonder fell to the floor. “He killed my daughter!” she wailed.
“That cold blooded killer!” Lambert cried, hugging her cousin.
They walked into the mortuary. It was so cold, they opened one of the drawers, and she saw her. Her eyes were still open. Her dark brown eyes looked bloodshot. She looked like she suffered before her death. She had no scar on her face.
“Cause of death?” Lambert asked.
“She was molested by three men first. Then bashed strangled to death. One of the DNA found in your daughter, matches your husband’s,” the tall woman who was a professor said. “How could he?” Mrs Tonder fell on her knees and sobbed.
“We believe she died four days ago,” she continued.
“Can I see her entire body?” Lambert asked. They pulled her out. Her clothes were torn, specifically her trouser. She had only one sneaker on. Under her nails, were bits of skin and blood.
“We’ve taken the DNA under her nails. It will help us find the two remaining of her killers.” The woman said.
“Oh God! Keesha! I’m sorry baby! So sorry!”
Mrs Tonder watched the coffin sink into the ground. It was a brown casket with gold handles. The funeral was full of teenagers, as Keesha was merely fifteen. It was very sad.
“Mom, will we ever see Keesha again?” Brian, the four-year-old boy asked his mother.
“No, Keesha is now a star. When we miss her, we’ll look up, and she’ll be shining down at us.” Mrs Tonder hugged her sun.
Indeed that night, they sat outside, staring at the sky.
“That big star over there is Keesha,” Brian said.
“Brian, that’s the moon.” Mrs Tonder laughed.
“I don’t care. My sister shines the best, so, she’s the moon,” Brian said.
“Yes. Yes. She’s the moon then,” Mrs Tonder smiled at her son, as the future was left unknown.
***
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