Ghost Peppers Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As Detective Penelope Peppers and Tony Clifford pulled up to the Rodgers' residence on Highland Avenue, the ominous familiarity of the scene gripped them both. Penny’s stomach twisted as they walked up the pathway toward the unassuming brick house, the flashing lights of squad cars casting alternating red and blue shadows across the yard.

Inside, the air was dense with a mix of stale heat and the unmistakable weight of tragedy. The technicians worked in efficient silence, already combing through evidence and snapping photographs as Tony and Penny surveyed the scene. And there, in the dimly lit bedroom, lay Kevin Rodgers, hands and feet bound with zip ties, a pristine white pillowcase with a single “K” embroidered in stark, cursive lettering, a haunting signature.

But Penny's eyes were drawn past him to the female figure on the bed. Karen Rodgers lay on her back, her body dressed in soft, pale blue lingerie. The familiar lace detail, the delicate shade, the thin delicate straps. Penny’s heart thudded painfully. It was exactly the same as that night years ago—her eighteenth birthday. She felt herself transported, not just in memory but in the deep, visceral way that some memories return, taking over sight, sound, even smell.

She remembered the weight of the soft gift box wrapped in a shimmering ribbon. Jackie’s gentle, steady gaze as Penny unwrapped it, the thrill and shyness she felt, a delicious vulnerability she could barely put to words. The blue lace, a bit of Jackie’s fragrance clinging to it as she held it up, a gift so intimate it made her feel both exposed and treasured. She could feel her skin warm as she slipped the set on that night, could still sense the gentle confidence in Jackie’s gaze when they first came together. It was love, a first deep and unbreakable connection.

But now, here, that same lace set had turned into something twisted and perverse. Penny’s throat constricted; the memories and the reality of this scene collided in a sickening blur. Karen’s lifeless body, posed in a mockery of that same tenderness she once felt. The way the bra was placed, the delicate straps arranged with disturbing precision. Penny’s stomach lurched.

The voices around her became distant murmurs, white noise. She didn’t realize Tony was speaking to her until she felt his hand on her shoulder, grounding her back in the present. She blinked, her vision clearing, and turned away from the grotesque scene in front of her.

"Penny," Tony’s voice was low but urgent, his gaze filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

She swallowed, unable to find words, and instead pushed past him, her footsteps quickening as she made her way out of the room. The moment she reached the hallway, she doubled over, unable to stop herself as she began to puke. The cold, empty feeling left her shaken as she steadied herself against the wall, breathing deeply, eyes closed as she forced the memories back into their place, trying to make sense of the surreal nightmare unfolding around her.

After a moment, she felt Tony’s hand on her shoulder again. His silence was understanding, patient.

She finally met his gaze, her own shadowed by anguish and dread. “It’s… it’s personal, Tony,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “This is meant for me. I don’t know how, but whoever’s doing this knows exactly what they're doing.”

Tony nodded, his expression grave. He didn’t press further but let her steady herself. The case, the memories, the violations—it all felt entangled, a cruel invasion of the sacred moments she held dear with Jackie.

Tony led her to the unmarked car and helped her sit inside. "Relax for a moment, I'll finish up," Tony said.

Penny fumbled for her phone as she leaned back in the passenger seat, every nerve frayed, her chest tight with a mix of panic and horror. Her hands shook as she left a trembling voicemail for Jackie.

“Jackie, please… I… I need you. It’s the lingerie—it’s just like… oh God, it’s the exact same,” she managed, voice breaking. “Please call me back. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

Just as she hung up, the phone vibrated in her hand. Jackie’s name flashed across the screen.

“Penny? Penny, I’m here. Take a deep breath, baby. I’m coming to you,” Jackie’s voice was calm, but Penny could hear the urgency in it. “Don’t move. Just stay right there.”

Penny’s grip tightened around her service pistol as she curled into herself, her mind spinning with a sickening mix of memories and paranoia. The familiar blue lace haunting her mind, the staged scene of Karen’s body, the relentless feeling of being watched. It all felt inescapable, as if someone was ripping her memories out and using them against her. She wasn’t sure she could bear it.

Minutes felt like hours as Penny’s thoughts spiraled, the cold metal of the pistol a reminder of the control she thought she once had. She barely noticed Tony standing nearby, his face tense and lined with worry, but he remained silent, watching.

Finally, headlights cut through the dimming light, and Jackie’s car pulled up beside hers. Jackie stepped out and approached slowly, her eyes fixed on Penny through the window. She could see the weapon in Penny’s hand, could feel the anguish radiating from her even at a distance. For a moment, Jackie’s heart seized in her chest. She wasn’t just worried, she was terrified.

Jackie stopped beside the car door, her hand pressed lightly to the glass as she met Penny’s gaze. Her voice was soft but unwavering, a gentle command.

“Penny, listen to me. I’m here now, okay? You’re not alone in this.” She paused, her eyes searching Penny’s face, watching for any glimmer of recognition. “I know it hurts. I know this is beyond painful, and I know it feels like too much right now. But you’ve survived so much, Penny. You’ve overcome things that most people would never come back from.”

Penny’s breathing was shallow, her grip on the pistol unwavering, her knuckles white. She was barely holding on, her thoughts swinging between rage, grief, and a deep, concerning fear that she couldn’t seem to shake.

“Penny,” Jackie’s voice broke through, low and steady, unwavering. “I need you to put the gun down. Right now, sweetheart. Just focus on my voice. I am right here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”

Tears spilled down Penny’s face as her eyes flickered to Jackie’s, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her chest like a vice. She wanted to believe it, wanted to feel safe, but all she could feel was the terror, the memories twisting into the present like some horrible game.

Jackie leaned in closer, her hand still resting against the glass, her own voice softening, almost pleading now. “You’re stronger than this, Penny. Look at me. Do you remember how many times I’ve told you that? How many times I’ve seen that strength in you, even when you didn’t?”

Penny’s gaze wavered as her grip on the pistol loosened slightly, her hand trembling.

“That’s it,” Jackie encouraged, her voice a lifeline in the storm. “This isn’t the end, Penny. This doesn’t define you. You’re a fighter. You always have been, and you still are.”

Penny’s shoulders shook, her grip finally slackening as she exhaled a long deep breath. She released the pistol, letting it fall to the floor of the car as she buried her face in her hands, the weight of everything crashing down.

Jackie opened the door carefully and pulled Penny into her arms, holding her tightly, letting Penny’s sobs fill the silence. She held her with fierce determination, as if she could somehow shield her from the horror of what they were facing. Jackie knew that Penny was resilient, but even the strongest had breaking points—and this had nearly broken them both.

As Jackie held her, Tony stood nearby, silent but vigilant, his gaze somber as he witnessed the depth of their bond, the lengths Jackie would go to for the woman she loved. And in that moment, he understood just how much Penny’s life was bound to Jackie’s, how their strength was something woven between them, a lifeline they’d built together.

“You’re safe now, Penny,” Jackie whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. “I’m not letting go. Not ever.”