A steady rain fell over a sea of dark umbrellas clustered around a pale canopy. Two lone figures sat beneath it, next to Marie Casey’s gleaming, flower-decked casket. A dark-haired woman and a boy.
Father Andrew Goodman had feared he would one day preside over the funeral of a Casey sister but had never imagined Marie would be the one. He glanced toward the woman he had expected to bury young.
Derby Cain Casey—Cain to those who knew her—sat with one hand on her son’s shoulder and the other on her sister’s coffin. She looked deceptively calm, but beyond the face she revealed to the world, Father Andrew glimpsed a cold, terrifying rage. Before this was over, she would exact her own unique form of revenge. Blood would be spilled for the injustice dealt to the Casey family.
“Let us all remember Marie, the kind spirit whom God has called home.” Father Andrew observed the large congregation gathered around him in the Metairie Cemetery just on the cusp of New Orleans and Jefferson Parish. The mourners seemed lost in thought as they recalled their own fond memories of the young woman.
“To her parents, Dalton and Therese, she was a blessing from heaven whom they cherished from the day she entered their lives. They said that often after her birth. To her brother Billy, she was someone to protect and love, and he did so until his final day here with us.”
He removed his glasses so he could wipe tears from his eyes. The Lord could have cooperated with better weather on the final resting day of the beautiful girl he had baptized twenty-six years before. It didn’t matter to the over two hundred people who had turned out, though. Many of them were more familiar with Marie’s family than the young woman they were there to honor. The Caseys’ contributions to the community through charitable giving and deed were as renowned as the way they allegedly earned their money.
“And to her sister, Cain, and nephew, Hayden, she was a harbor from the storm.” Father Andy put his glasses back on and smiled at them, hoping to provide a little comfort. “Derby, I’m confident your parents and brother were all waiting with open arms to welcome her home. And with your family, I’m sure they had a party that’d do all the Caseys proud.”
Cain disregarded the sniffles and laments of the family members standing nearby, but graced the priest with a nod for his generous words. They were only words, though, coming nowhere near to quelling the fury she felt inside for what had happened to her sister. Her life had often been marked by loss, but to lose Marie cut deep.
The man who had killed Marie obviously intended for Cain to dream for months about what he had done. He wanted the images of Marie’s rape and torture to serve as a permanent reminder of how Cain had not only failed Marie, but her father as well, since she had inherited from him the responsibility of watching over Marie after his death. The killer had wanted her to remember that her sister had taken her last breaths alone and in pain.
If his intent was to brand her brain with his savagery, he had succeeded. Marie’s barbaric murder had killed a part of Cain’s soul as well. She would long remember every bite mark, bruise, and cigarette burn on Marie’s body.
Soon, though, she would temper those cruel memories with the salve that came only through revenge. The man who stole Marie’s dignity before pulling the trigger to end her misery would pay with blood and a world of pain. His price would be a thousand of Marie’s lifetimes before she was through with him and God heard his pleas for the sweet peace of death.
No one in her life had loved her so unselfishly as Marie. As Father Andy continued his eulogy, Cain remembered the day Marie had turned ten.
“Derby, do you think I’m pretty?”
“No, Marie, I don’t think you’re pretty. I think you’re beautiful. You get any more that way and Billy and me will get into more fights than we’ll know how to win. You’re going to grow up so gorgeous, we’ll be beating them off at the door, there’ll be so many boys after you.”
The little black-haired girl held out the sides of her new pink dress and smiled into the mirror. “No, Derby, I want to grow up and take care of you.”
“Why do you say that, birthday girl?” Cain locked eyes with her and smiled back. No one could bring a smile to her face easier than her little sister.
“’Cause you look like someone who’s going to need looking after.”
Her sister had been special all right. No one in her family cared that her mind hadn’t matured normally, trapping her in a world of her own while freeing her to be the child she thought she was. Marie had been an innocent who had done an admirable job of helping her take care of her son Hayden. Hayden and her sister had become so attached to each other, she worried about the effects her brutal death would have on him. He had already lost his mother; it didn’t seem fair to add Marie to the list.
The sprinkling of holy water dragged her away from her memories. All that was left to do was to place the casket in the family crypt so Marie could lie alongside their parents and their brother. For one eternal moment, Cain felt almost like an orphan as she stared at the headstones that marked the final resting place of her family.
She felt like crying but heeded well her father’s voice on this one unbending rule. As the head of the Casey family, she had been trained never to show weakness of any kind in public, so now was not the time to grieve. The priest came and momentarily took her hand before patting Hayden on the head. “The church is always here for you, Derby, if you’ve a need to talk. May God bless you and your son.”
Behind them, the line of mourners moved toward their cars, looking like dead flowers cast on a lazy river. None of the attendees wanted to bother them as Cain and Hayden said their last good-byes. The ever-present wall of guards had closed ranks around them, ensuring their privacy. When she didn’t answer, Father Andy joined the others and left them in peace.
Cain felt Hayden’s grip tighten on her arm, drawing her attention from the coffin to him. “Shasta daisies were her favorite. Aunt Marie always said they made her happy.” She stayed silent and listened. Hayden had been beside her when they went to identify the body. Like his mother, Hayden had stoically and with a dry face shown the world the strength the Caseys possessed in abundance.
That her son was almost a carbon copy of her was a relief. A relief not to have to confront the image of his blond birth mother every single day. For Cain, to see any resemblance to the person she hated in the face of the one person she loved more than life would have been one penance too many.
