Ghost Peppers Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The sun was setting as Penelope drove home, her grip on the wheel tight as her eyes darted to the rearview mirror, scanning the cars behind her. Her thoughts swirled with doubt. Who’s watching me? Us? The crimes, so close and so personal, had planted a seed of paranoia that she couldn’t seem to shake.

As she turned onto the quiet, tree-lined street that led home, a sudden memory resurfaced, sharp and vivid. She could almost feel the scratch of her purple bikini against her skin as she adjusted the straps, excited for a rare day in the backyard pool. She’d been twelve, full of the innocent excitement that summer brought.

But then, as she turned from her dresser, she’d heard his voice, slurred and sharp. Her father, John, had stumbled into her room, eyes bloodshot. “What are you doing?” he had snapped, his gaze unfocused yet unsettlingly intense. Penny remembered freezing, her pulse racing as he took a stumbling step forward.

“Just…going to the pool,” she’d managed, her voice trembling slightly. But he’d cut her off with a growl, his face contorted with anger over something only he could see. He had reached out, his hand gripping her shoulder, his fingers pressing in a way that made her wince. She remembered the smell of alcohol on his breath, the tightness of his grip, the rage that seemed to erupt out of nowhere.

“You don’t get to prance around like some—” His words blurred in her mind, but she’d never forget the way he shook her, the sting of his words sinking in deep.

And then, as if on cue, a knock had sounded at the door. They’d both turned, startled, as her father’s glare shifted toward the front of the house. “Stay here,” he barked, leaving her trembling as he stomped down the hallway. But Penny hadn’t stayed. She had tiptoed to her door, peeking out to see Jackie standing on the front porch, her posture tense, eyes narrowed as John opened the door.

Penny had felt a rush of relief—how had Jackie known? She’d barely interacted with her neighbor before, save for the occasional smile when they crossed paths. But Jackie had been there, almost as if she had sensed what was happening. Penny strained to hear the words exchanged, her heart pounding in her chest.

“John,” Jackie had said, her voice calm but firm, laced with a confidence. “Just wanted to see if you needed anything. Heard some noise and thought I’d check in.” Her tone was pleasant, almost casual, but there was an edge to it, a subtle warning.

Penny had watched as her father’s expression shifted, his bluster deflating under Jackie’s steady gaze. “We’re fine,” he muttered, casting a dark glance back toward Penny’s room before shifting unsteadily on his feet.

Jackie didn’t budge. “That’s good to hear. Just making sure,” she said, holding his gaze longer than necessary. “You know, Penny’s always welcome to come by if she needs anything. You know where I live.” Her words were casual but pointed, and Penny could feel the implication even from her hiding spot.

John had grumbled something under his breath before closing the door, his mood shifting as he returned to her room, though now with a dull, simmering anger. He didn’t say much after that, his words slurred, his movements sluggish as he stomped away.

Penny remembered sitting alone, her hands trembling, feeling an odd mix of shame and relief. Jackie’s presence had been a lifeline in a moment of fear, a small but unforgettable gesture that gave her a glimpse of what safety felt like.

How had she known? Penny wondered now, the memory settling uneasily in her chest. Jackie had seemed to understand something that no one else had, like she’d been able to read the signs, to know when Penny was in danger. That moment had been the first of many times Jackie had somehow appeared when Penny needed her most. The coincidence, if it was that, was uncanny.

A car honked behind her, pulling her back to the present, and Penny realized she’d slowed, caught in her thoughts. She pressed down on the gas, feeling her pulse racing as she continued homeward, her mind a whirl of questions.

Had someone been watching her all along? Or was it simply Jackie’s intuition, a sensitivity honed through experience? Whatever the answer, Penny couldn’t shake the sense that the past was circling back, shadows stretching from old memories into her life now.

As Penny pulled into the driveway, she noticed Jackie standing by the door, eyes fixed on the street with a watchful, almost wary expression. When Jackie turned and saw her, her face softened, but Penny felt an edge of apprehension grip her.

The moment Penny stepped inside, Jackie wrapped her in a firm embrace. “You’re home,” Jackie murmured, but Penny’s posture remained rigid, her mind whirling with unease.

Penny stepped back, breaking their embrace as she looked at Jackie, eyes filled with tension. “Something’s wrong, Jackie. I feel like someone’s… watching us,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jackie’s gaze darkened with concern. “Is this about the case?” She kept her tone steady, but Penny caught the unease there.

“It’s everything, Jackie. The case, the lingerie, that… that pink set at the scene.” Penny’s voice shook. “It looked just like the one we bought the other day. I can’t stop wondering if someone’s paying attention to us, to me. And now I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being… stalked.”

Jackie’s expression shifted, her own tension evident. “So, you’re saying you think the killer somehow knows details about us? About something we chose together? Penny, that’s a stretch.”

Penny’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Is it? Jackie, this isn’t just random paranoia. I feel it. The way things are lining up—it’s like they’re mocking us. Mocking me.” She paced, her breaths growing shallow. “And what if it is more than coincidence?”

Jackie crossed her arms, her voice calm but intense. “Penny, you’ve had a tough week. With the case, the scene you just left—it’s only natural you’d be feeling things deeply. But letting it get to this point isn’t healthy.” She reached out to touch Penny’s arm, but Penny stepped back, a haunted look in her eyes.

“You don’t understand. This isn’t just stress. I’m telling you, Jackie, this feels personal. Maybe it’s just some… twisted feeling, but it’s real to me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

Jackie took a deep breath. “I do understand,” she said finally, her voice dropping to a gentler tone. “I know how fear can play tricks. How it can make every shadow feel like a threat.” She hesitated, then added, “When I was growing up, my dad—he would drink, come home angry. Any little thing could set him off. I learned to pick up on every sign, every little change just to protect myself.”

Penny looked up, eyes wide. “Jackie… I didn’t know.”

Jackie nodded, her voice steady. “It gave me this… sense. Something I still carry. I can see you’re feeling something similar. But, Penny, this isn’t something we can face with fear. We face it with facts, with clarity, and together.” Jackie stepped closer, her gaze firm. “If there’s someone to worry about, we’ll find them. But don’t let this tear you apart.”

Penny closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. “It just, it feels too close, too calculated.”

Jackie nodded. “Then we dig deeper. But don’t carry this alone, Penny. Let me help you, like I always have.” She held Penny’s gaze, the familiar warmth between them settling Penny’s panic just a bit.

Penny finally relented, leaning into Jackie’s touch. “I’m scared, Jackie. But I trust you.”

Jackie kissed her forehead. “And I’m here, always. We’ll face whatever this is together, Penny.”