The driving rhythm of a fast dance song followed Trixie Belden out of the Sleepyside Junior-Senior High as she escaped from the crowded gym filled with dancing students. Honey slipped on the matching wrap to her sparkling red dress and quickly followed her.

“Are you sure you want to leave already?” her best friend asked, her disappointment obvious.

“Honey, it's almost midnight,” Trixie protested, standing on one foot so that she could take off one shoe and rub her foot. “The dance is practically over, and I just want to go home, soak my feet in the tub, and go to bed.”

Honey's eyes crinkled with worry. “I shouldn't have made you come,” she said. “I'm sorry you didn't have a good time, Trix.”

Trixie looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about? I had a great time!”

“You did?” Honey asked, her eyebrows shooting sky-high.

“Well, sure. I mean, I had no idea that Sleepyside had so many good-looking guys.” She winked. “And some of them can dance pretty well, too.”

Honey giggled. “That's right. Didn't I see you teaching Nick Roberts the jitterbug?”

“Who knew that a tortured artist could have so many moves?” Trixie asked.

“And Alex Park seemed to enjoy that slow dance,” Honey continued.

Trixie blushed.

“And didn't you do the electric slide with Blaine Peters?”

“Okay, okay! I had a good time.” Trixie waggled her eyebrows. “An exceptionally good time. But I want to go home now. You guys stay until the end, and then we'll meet up back at Crabapple Farm. We're still doing the sleepover, right?”

Honey sighed. “If that's what you want.”

“You don't want to sleep over?” Trixie asked, her jaw slack.

“Of course I do! I just meant that if you really want to leave early, I'll stop trying to talk you out of it.”

“Good. Now get back to your date, Miss Wheeler. My brother probably thinks you're out here with another guy, or something.”

Honey laughed. “Brian knows better. Okay, we'll see you in about an hour, Trix.”

Trixie waved good-bye as she fished her keys out of her purse and headed for Mart's car, leaving the station wagon for the remaining Bob-Whites. Luckily for her, Mart had taken his own vehicle and met Diana at the school. Even more luckily, he didn't seem to mind Trixie borrowing it and leaving Mart and Diana to ride home in the Bob-White station wagon. She winced with each step she took, cursing the high heels she'd been forced to wear to the dance. The dance she'd been forced to attend without the benefit of a date. Well, that wasn't quite true, she told herself. If the amount of guys asking her to dance tonight were any indication, she could have had plenty of invitations for an escort, if she'd wanted one.

Shrugging her shoulders, Trixie picked up her pace and hurried through the dark parking lot. A prickle of unease tickled her spine, and she clutched her keys tightly, keys threaded between her fingers. The sound of footsteps in the shadows caused her to jump, and then giggle nervously. Anyone would think she'd never driven herself home by herself before...

When she finally unlocked Mart's rusted Horizon and tucked herself into the driver's seat, she gave a sigh of relief. It was ridiculous to think anything would happen to her. She was in Sleepyside, of all places! Surely she was safe.

Still on edge, Trixie turned the key in the ignition and made her way out of the school parking lot. Though it was close to midnight, several homes were still brightly lit, and she wasn't alone on the mostly quiet small-town streets. She frowned as a vehicle pulled up close behind her, riding her bumper. She sped up, trying to put some distance between her and the impatient driver. The other driver flashed his lights once, then dropped back, just a little.

Trixie smacked herself on the forehead. The other driver was probably just another high school student going home after the dance, and was saying good-bye. She heaved a sigh of relief, then laughed ruefully at her panic. Some detective she was!

Feeling a little better, she turned on to Glen Road and waved at the vehicle behind her, assuming that he would turn in the other direction.

He didn't.

Trixie's grip on the wheel tightened. Who on earth would be driving on Glen Road at this time of night? The other Bob-Whites were still at the dance. Almost all of her other neighbours were elderly, and wouldn't be out so late. The first tendrils of panic began to coil through her. Deep calming breaths became ragged gasps for air.

And he was tail-gating again.

Trixie took the first curve in the road fast, heart pouding, unwilling to slow down. She kept her eyes on the road, but was almost blinded as the car behind her flashed its lights. A word she had heard Mart use when he had dropped a hammer on his foot came flying out of her mouth.

“Just get to the Farm,” she told herself. “Pull into the driveway, and run into the house, screaming. Daddy will call the police. Why, oh why, don't I have a cell phone?”

Of course, she knew why she didn't have a cell phone. She and Mart shared a phone, and it was currently tucked in Mart's suit jacket as he danced with Diana. Thinking about her friends caused her to choke back a sob. Would the maniac in the car behind her catch her before she could ever see her friends or family again?

The lights flashed in her mirror again, and Trixie let loose a strangled scream of frustration and fear. The car was closer, practically touching her bumper. Much to her chagrin, tears began to track down her face. She felt a slight nudge, and fought back a sob as she tried to keep the car on the road.

She sailed past the dark, over-grown driveway leading to the ruins of the Frayne mansion, and saw the turn-off for Crabapple Farm. She knew she was driving too fast, but she was too terrified to take her foot off the gas. Her only thought was that she had to get home. If she could just get into her own home, and lock the door, she would be safe.

She just made the corner, gravel spraying as she hurtled toward the house. The car followed her, slightly slower, headlights flashing frantically. Trixie slammed on the brakes, fishtailing to a stop right in front of the door. With a rush of adrenaline, she ripped the keys from the ignition, threw open the car door, and sprinted to the door of the house, leaving the car door open. She ignored the muffled sounds behind her, concentrating only on making it into the house. She wrenched the door open, then slammed it behind her.

It was as she heard footsteps thundering through the house that she realized she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Call the police!” she begged, as her dad burst into the entrance. “Now! 911!”

Peter Belden retrieved the cordless phone, moving surprisingly fast. Trixie saw his lips moving, but the blood rushing through her head made the sounds indistinct. She jumped when he placed an arm around her.

“The police will be here right away,” Mr. Belden assured her. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Trixie turned to look out the window beside the door. “Someone followed me home,” she said, staring at the second vehicle in the driveway. They both sucked in a breath as they saw the driver side door open, and a tall figure emerge from the vehicle. The porch light illuminated the young man clearly.

Peter Belden frowned. “Isn't that Nick Roberts?” he asked.

A spark of anger ignited in Trixie's eyes. “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “Yes, it is.” Without warning, Trixie charged out of the farm house and straight toward her friend, her father close on her heels.

“Nicholas. Roberts. How dare you!? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? That was so not funny.” She stopped an inch away from him, jabbing her finger at his chest.

But Nick wasn't listening. “Trixie! Oh, my gosh. Trixie, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Trixie threw up her hands. “What are you talking about? You almost ran me off the road! And blinded me with your brights! What were you thinking?!”

“Trixie!” Nick grabbed her shoulders. “Trixie, I followed you because I saw a man get into your car in the school parking lot. He was in the back seat, Trix, and he had a knife. Every time he sat up and tried to slice you, I flashed my brights, and he would duck down again. Oh my gosh.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “Are you sure you're okay?”

Trixie stared at him, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” Shaking her head, she reached for the handle of the back door of the Horizon. “See? Empty.”

Trixie froze as she caught a flash of something metallic. “What on earth?”

She started to reach into the vehicle, but her father pulled her back. “Easy, Trix.” He gently guided her out of the way so that he could take a look into the vehicle. He removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and was about to reach for something when Trixie stopped him.

“Don't touch it,” she warned him. “We don't want to contaminate the crime scene.”

Her frightened blue eyes met Nick's dark, troubled eyes. “He left the knife behind,” she said, her voice tight.

A deep shiver shook her as they all stared into the black night, waiting for the police to arrive, and praying that the monster was really and truly gone.

Author's Notes

-Happy Halloween!
-A big thanks to Mal, for coming up with the idea of a Halloween writing challenge and allowing me to work with her a little. And for editing, designing graphics, hosting this story... the list goes on. Thanks, Mal!
-Bright Lights is based on this urban legend. I chose it because I figured I might be able to sleep after writing it. Might. *wink* -Word Count, 1,687