Deeper than the dead

chapter 10

                                    Janie Thornton Pov

(A.N  yall weren't expecting that ayee🤠)

I always started my day in the garden because it was a beautiful place for me to think and reflect. Working in the garden was my version of meditation, and it was the closest I'd ever come to actually stilling my constantly racing mind.

Even though I had arrived late, having driven up from Los Angeles after a long day of meetings, I had managed to rise before the majority of Oak Knoll.

The sky was that perfect electric blue of autumn, and the temperature was in the low 70s. While Victoria, my black pug, patrolled for mice among the overgrown patch of purple flowers, I made my way down the row deadheading roses.

I adored my Oak Knoll home. I bought the 1928 Spanish hacienda-style house nearly 5 years ago, after divorcing my husband and Los Angeles. Oak Knoll had always sparked my curiosity with its interesting mix of people and small-town ambience. The college provides it with the sophistication of academia as well as the vibrancy of youth. Its proximity to Santa Barbara and the North End of Los Angeles makes it an effective commute for young professionals with young families, promising a future. All of Oak Knoll's characteristics make it a desirable place for wealthy retirees, bringing wealth and support for the arts.

The college had a well-known music program that drew talented musicians and singers as students and teachers. Every summer, Oak Knoll hosted a well-known classical music festival.

Despite the fact that I still had a condo in Los Angeles, Oak Knoll was my home, and the Oak Knoll Thornton Center for Women was my only focus.

The Oak Knoll Center is a scaled-down version of Los Angeles' original Thornton Center. The centers, which were the brainchild of me and my two sisters and funded by the Thornton family philanthropic trust, were places for women to reinvent themselves.

Women from all walks of life made up the clientele, women who needed and deserved a second chance. Women who were homeless, battered, had a drug history, or had been arrested were all welcomed and not judged. Each Center provided shelter for those in need, as well as assistance with health care, psychological and job counseling, and wardrobe and self-improvement makeovers that would send them out into the job market with confidence and newfound self-esteem.

The Thornton girls had been raised with the ideal of giving back to the community and assisting those in need.

42, I had achieved success in business and was a well-known supporter of the arts. I served on the boards of several nationally recognized charities, but the Thornton women's centers were my pride and joy.

I could hear the phone ringing for the fifth time in 30 minutes through the open back door of my house. Everyone who knew me knew that I never took calls during my gardening time, but five calls in 30 minutes made it appear as if someone was desperate to reach me, and a strange uneasy feeling moved through me.

My parents were both alive and well, but that didn't rule out the possibility of something bad happening to them. Amazonia, my sister, was on vacation on a ranch in Idaho. While hiking, she could have fallen from a horse or been attacked by a ram goat.

"You're being ridiculous," I grumbled to myself, but I was walking towards the house and removing my gloves as I said it.

By the time I walked through the kitchen to my antique desk in the front room, the answering machine had picked up. Seven unheard messages were flashed by angry red numbers. I hadn't paid attention to the four people who had been there the night before. I was exhausted and went straight to my room for a bath, a nap, and a chapter of you and I by annel 896.

The first message came from my assistant at the center at 10:44 a.m. on Tuesday.
"HI Janie, I apologize for bothering you, but Quantico, Morganton, and associates called to inform me that Karla Vicksburg did not arrive this morning. Her first day on the job was supposed to be today. I thought you might be interested."

The second message. Tuesday, 3:23 p.m.
"This is Boyden Elliott from the nature conservancy, Miss Thornton. Could you please call me when you have a chance? I'd like to run something by you in terms of benefits."

The third message was sent at 5:24 p.m. on Tuesday.
"It's me again, Janie. I've tried calling Karla, but she doesn't answer the phone. On my way home, I'm going to stop by her house to see how she's doing."

The fourth message was sent at 7:21 p.m. on Tuesday.
"It's me again. I'm currently at Karla's. She isn't here. I'm at a loss as to what to do."

The fifth message was sent at 7:37 a.m. on Wednesday. Again, my assistant sounded tired and nervous.
"I'm not sure what time you got in last night, Janie. Have you seen the news? Please contact me."

Sixth message: 7:49 a.m. on Wednesday.
"It's me, Janie. We haven't heard from you in several days. We just heard about it on the news. Please call and let us know how you're doing."

The news. What is the latest news? Why shouldn't I be fine?

The seventh message was sent at 8:02 a.m. on Wednesday. My assistant is back.
"There has been a murder, Janie. Answer the phone. Oh, God. I have a horrible feeling it's Karla."

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We're yall surprised at the turn😭

Do yall think it's Karla?

How was Janie's pov?

Finished:13/12/2021

Word count:966