Page 23 of High Season
Now, guests at the party first knew something was up when Nina Drayton was heard screaming outside. She was found alone by the pool, having discovered her sister unconscious in the water. Tamara was pulled from the pool by partygoers, and was found to have a pulse, so an ambulance was called. Reports suggest that, although a large crowd had gathered outside, Josie Jackson did not arrive at the pool until five to ten minutes later—which was used as proof that she had had time to dispose of evidence.
The ambulance arrived, and Tamara died in the hospital around eight hours later. Police immediately thought her death seemed suspicious. But, it wasn’t until a couple of days later—when little Nina Drayton started to spill—that things really started to get juicy. And that’s when attention really started to shift onto Josie Jackson.
So there it is, the cold hard facts of the case. And I get it. So far, it’s sounding like Josie Jackson is guilty, right? But over the next couple of videos, I’ll be explaining more about the case, including some of the evidence that was, like, seriously sus. Like and follow to make sure you don’t miss it.
Annamay897: Grrrl you are doing the lords work
JosieJacksonisinnocent: Yes to all the JJ fangirls! She was always my favorite murderer but now she might be my favorite NOT a murderer!? Lollllll
TamaraDrayton123: It’s giving murder girl summer
Miribelle…: Always knew there was something shady AF about this case
Jadestargirl: Not here for all the Josie Jackson defenders. You’re totally ignoring all of the crazy stuff that came out about JJ in the trial. That girl was twisted. Josie Jackson is the epitome of EVIL!
NINE
2024
It rains on the day that Josie Jackson returns to the Côte d’Azur.
“Madness,” says Calvin. “It doesn’t rain for weeks, and thenthis. On today of all days.”
He dashes from the car to the house, swearing loudly, a suitcase flailing from each hand. The dirt drive, which Josie remembers being baked hard by sun, a trail of orange dust always marking her legs, has turned to mud. Calvin splashes through puddles that look, in the cooling evening light, the color of blood.
The air is thick. The rain is hot. Josie turns her face skyward. She closes her eyes and stretches her arms out, as if she cannot get enough of the feel of water against her skin. As if she has never been caught in a rainstorm before. As if she cannot bear to go inside.
“It looks like shit in here,” Josie says, as the door shuts behind her.
Calvin drops a suitcase on the floor.
“Thanks,” he says. “There’s fresh towels upstairs. I thought you might want to take a shower.”
“A shower?”
“I had one put in. A couple of years ago. After…”
He tilts his head, letting the words fall into the silence.
“After Mum died?” Josie fills in for him.
He ducks his head and Josie sees the dart of sadness still within him. She knows. She feels it, too, except her sadness is tinged with regret. Guilt.
“After I took over the house,” he says instead.
He holds out one of the bags toward her. It feels light. Too light to contain almost everything Josie owns.
“Am I in…” She pauses. “Am I in my old bedroom?”
It’s all so ancient and so new, all at the same time. So much time has passed. There are so many things that they don’t know about each other.
“It’s your bedroom,” her brother says. “That hasn’t changed.”
The shower is slow and creaking, in spite of its relative newness. The water is a thin, lackluster stream, which takes forever to heat up, but is scalding when it does. Still, Josie stands beneath it for a long time. She washes her hair with a slim, damp sliver of soap. She lets her body grow pink, slightly singed. Her fingers crumple into a soft concertina of skin.
When Josie finally steps out, the room is full of steam. Her lungs ache with the heat of each inhale. She feels clean and warm in a way that she hasn’t in a while, right down to her bones.
She pulls her damp hair back into a ponytail. She hasn’t had it cut for months and her roots are growing out, brown bleeding into the yellow blond. She should really get it redone, and soon. Before too many people have time to notice her. She has already agonized over this for weeks, catching sight of herself in full-length mirrors and wondering if there is anything left of the old Josie. The short, freckled girl from twenty years ago. Anything that people might recognize.
