Author's Note: Once again, thank you for your patience and for all of your support and concern. The headaches are becoming less frequent and I feel much better. Hopefully, by next week, I'll be back on schedule with my life and the story. I hope you like this chapter but I have to warn you that I did not use a beta and I was not as compulsive about proofreading as I should have been. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: The Figure

The party reached its climax as teenagers embraced joyously in the moments following the dawning of the New Year. The flashing strobe lights stripped away inhibitions and increased the party-goers boisterous enthusiasm. Enemies temporarily set aside their differences and acquaintances bonded in the frenetic chaos.

Suddenly, Jane was at Trixie's side. She laughed and pulled Trixie into the mass of young celebrants. Briefly, she hugged her blonde friend, wished her a Happy New Year and then pushed her toward Tad Webster. Trixie was surprised when the young man kissed her soundly on the lips. With a big smile, he hugged her excitedly before whirling away to embrace another girl.

Still stunned by her encounter with Dylan McLauter, Trixie found herself being passed from one teenager to another—Ian Douglas, Joe Taylor, Patty Morris, Jake Ryan, Sherrie Hartley, and then, Tad Webster again. In the pandemonium, Trixie was sure that she had been embraced by everyone in the room.

When the chaos died down and someone turned the music back up, Trixie found herself standing with Jake Ryan. As the strobe lights went off and the disco ball began to spin, he whispered, "Happy New Year." Then he leaned down and kissed gently her on the lips. With a smile, he pulled her toward the center of the room where some of the other kids were swaying to a slow song.

"Jake, I can't dance in these…" she began.

The young man shook his head at her. "The host gets to dance with all of the pretty girls. Besides, it's a slow dance. I'll take the chance."

Trixie raised a blonde brow doubtfully as she warned, "It's your toes."

"Come on," the handsome young man laughed as he led her toward the dancers. "Losing a toe won't kill me."

Feeling strangely abashed, she let him pull her into his arms. It had been a confusing evening and Trixie felt overwhelmed by the muddled thoughts churning in her head. With a sigh, she relaxed against the young man. Mindlessly, she rested her head on his shoulder and followed his lead.

Jake was a good dancer and swaying to the soft music with him wasn't bad. In fact, it was nice. Gently, he held her body close to his as they circled the floor. Like Dylan, he smelled nice. However, where Dylan had a clean, soapy smell, there was just a hint of cologne clinging to Jake's body.

Gleeps! Trixie thought incredulously. Am I going to get all boy-crazy just because some guy kissed me?

Resolutely, Trixie pushed the thought away. She would try to sort out the evening's events later. Right now, she needed to relax and regain her equilibrium.

When the slow song faded away, a peppy dance tune followed it. Trixie pulled away from Jake. With a smile, she looked up at him. He was staring at her with a strange-yet-earnest expression on his face, his dark brown eyes focused intently on hers.

"Trixie…" he started. However, Ashley Hemingway, one of the girls on the color guard team, grabbed his arm and cut him off.

"I'm next, Jake," the other girl told him insistently, tugging him away from Trixie.

He opened his mouth but Trixie held up her hand. "Go ahead, Jake." She smiled gamely and reminded him of his earlier words, "The host has to dance with all of the pretty girls."

Jake forced a grin, nodded and took the other girl's arm. "Let's go, Ash," he said, his tone slightly brusque. With a look over his shoulder, he asked Trixie, "Will you let me know before you leave?"

The blonde nodded before she turned and made toward the stairs. Agilely, she climbed them. When she reached the top, Trixie heard her telephone ring. It was the tone she had assigned to her mother.

She pulled the phone out of her clutch.

"Hey, Moms," she answered.

"Hi, sweetheart," Moms replied. "Are you having a good time?"

Trixie smiled when she heard the anxious undertone in her mother's voice. Using her most pathetic voice, she began, "Well..."

"Trixie…" her mother said warningly.

"You know me too well, Moms. I'm fine and I've had an..." she paused and tilted her head to one side consideringly. "…an interesting time."

Trixie heard her mother sigh.

"Your father is ready to leave," Helen told her daughter. "We're going to say our goodbyes and come and get you. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting with baited breath," Trixie responded impishly, using one of Mart's expressions. She could almost see her mother shaking her head in amused frustration at her disdain for socializing. Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she told her mother goodbye and pushed the off button.

"An interesting time, huh?" a voice asked over her shoulder. "Jake thought this party was going to go down as the party of the year."

Trixie spun around and met Mr. Ryan's eyes.

He's handsome for an older man, Trixie thought. I bet Jake will look just like him in twenty or so years.

"Hi, Mr. Ryan," Trixie greeted her classmate's father. "It's not the party. It's me. I'm not good at socializing and stuff like this."

The man studied her with amusement lurking in his eyes. "It's the host's job to make sure everyone has a good time."

"Your son is a great host. He was even brave enough to dance with me," Trixie smiled as she defended Jake. "Besides I don't think I was on the original invitation list. If my mom and I hadn't seen your wife and Jake at the supermarket, Jake wouldn't have felt obligated to invite me."

Mr. Ryan laughed. "Believe me, my dear, the day that my son feels obligated to invite a pretty girl to a party will never come."

"He's right, Trixie," Mrs. Ryan agreed as she joined them. "As far as Jake is concerned, the more, the merrier—especially when it comes to pretty girls."

Both the Ryans were distracted as several teenagers came up the stairs, obviously ready to leave. Before Mrs. Ryan was sidetracked by the other kids, Trixie quickly asked where the bathroom was. She followed the woman's directions, walking across the living room to a short hallway. When she found the bathroom, she turned on the light and closed the door. After she used the facilities, she washed and dried her hands and then stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her cheeks were rosy and she had managed to chew off the lip stain her mother had painstakingly put on her before they left Crabapple Farm. Trixie ran her fingers through her riotous curls, fluffing her hair. Then, she took out some lip balm and ran it over her lips. To her overly critical eyes, she looked the same—plain, old Trixie Belden. With a deep sigh, she shrugged her shoulders helplessly and left the bathroom.

She went back downstairs in search of Jake. When she finally found him, he was in a corner, wrapped in an embrace with Ashley Hemingway.

"Uh…Jake," she said hesitantly, interrupting the kissing couple. "I don't want to…"

At her voice, the young man pulled away from the other girl and turned toward Trixie. "Uh…Trixie…uh…" Ashley moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I hate to interrupt but I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the party and tell you that I had a…a good time."

Jake shook his head as if he was trying to clear his thoughts. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, my parents should be here in a few minutes," she told him. With a smile, she looked over his shoulder at the other girl. "Happy New Year, Ashley. Thanks again, Jake."

With those simple words, she turned and made her way back toward the steps.

Dylan had managed to avoid the embracing teenagers by staying close to the recreation room wall. He quickly escaped the party-goers, climbed the steps and adeptly avoided Jake's parents in the foyer. Easing out the front door, he shut it behind him and started toward his grandfather's car. Out of habit, he pulled the keys out of his pocket, slid the key ring over his finger and flipped the keys over and over in his hand. Hunching his shoulders against the biting cold, he picked up his pace. He was freezing and the car was parked on the street about three blocks down the road from Jake's house.

Quickly traversing the distance, he put the key in the door and turned it. After he opened the door, he paused thoughtfully. One of the guys had spiked the punch and he had had several cups before his encounter with Trixie Belden. Although he wanted to make his parents' lives miserable or—at the very least—inconvenience them, his plans did not include ruining his own life. While getting busted for drunk driving would cause his parents some grief, he would be the one who would suffer the most. Sighing, he locked the door and shut it. Sliding the ring back on his finger, he started walking toward his grandparents' home.

He turned the corner and left the street Jake lived on. The sleepy little town seemed deserted, leaving Dylan alone with his thoughts. He kept his head down against the cold and replayed the night's events in his mind. The evening had been interesting…or at least meeting Trixie Belden had been interesting. When he had first seen her, he had sensed that she was different from other girls. He had been right. She was unlike any of the other girls he had met in Sleepyside. In fact, she was unlike any of the girls he had known in California.

One side of Dylan's mouth turned up in a smile as he thought, Trixie Belden might be…

His thoughts trailed off as he heard footsteps coming toward him. He looked up and an ominous shiver went down his spine. From what Dylan could see, the approaching figure wore all black—a long, wool coat over black slacks and shoes. The collar of the coat was turned up and a black scarf was wrapped around the man's neck. His hair covered by a midnight-colored toboggan which was pulled down low. Like Dylan, the stranger kept his head down. As they passed, they nodded at each other, not making eye contact.

Dylan didn't look over his shoulder but he listened carefully after the man passed him. In the silence of the frigid night, the young man heard the stranger's footsteps receding into the darkness. The figure had seemed eerie, reminding him of the soulless killers from the horror movies that were all the rage among his friends.

All the guy needs is a large hook, Dylan thought, chuckling out loud to mask the unease he felt deep within his chest.

He took a calming breath and looked over his shoulder. The man had disappeared into the shadows. Somewhat unnerved, Dylan walked faster.

Trixie thanked the Ryans for their hospitality and slipped out the front door with a bunch of other kids. Unlike the other teenagers in the departing group, she stopped on the front porch and searched the street for her parents. She made a face when she realized that they weren't waiting for her.

"Hey, Trixie," Ian Douglas called to get her attention. He stood by a candy-apple red 1980 Chevrolet Camaro. "Do you need a ride?"

Teeth chattering, she called back, "No, Ian. My parents are coming to pick me up."

The young man closed his car door and jogged back up the walkway. "Want some company?"

"No, it's too cold. Go on. There's no sense in both of us freezing," she told the young man as he bounded onto the porch.

"It is cold tonight," he agreed before he asked, "So where are the rest of your friends? It's kind of odd to see Trixie Belden without the rest of the Bob-Whites."

Trixie made a face. "We're not that bad." At Ian's raised eyebrow, she asked, "Are we that bad?"

"Pretty much."

Ian smiled as he watched Trixie's blue eyes widen in horror. It was moments like these when he understood why his best friend had the hots for the teenage detective.

"Gleeps!"

Laughing at her distressed expression, Ian said, "It's not like you guys are one of those bad cliques…"

Trixie cut him off. If possible, her eyes became even larger as she repeated his words in a distressed tone. "A clique? We're a clique?"

"Oh, God, forget I said anything," Ian told her, wondering how to get out of the conversation he had started. "Please."

"Don't say God. Say gosh," she chastised Ian, treating him like she would Mart, Dan or Bobby. "Do you think we're…snobs?"

"No," he reassured her. "You're all really good friends and it's hard to get to know you because you are all so tight. It's like you don't need any more friends or..."

"Or...?" Trixie prompted slyly. When Ian didn't say anything, she continued. "Like Honey doesn't need a boyfriend?"

Ian threw his head back and stared at the stars. Sighing, he looked back at Trixie and asked, "Am I that obvious?"

Trixie giggled. "A little."

Groaning, Ian ran his fingers through his hair. "If you know I have a crush on Honey, everyone in school must know."

"If I know…" Trixie repeated. A little put out, she asked huffily, "What does that mean?"

"Trixie, if there was a yearbook award for 'The Girl Who is the Most Clueless about Guys,' you'd win by a landslide."

"Hey!"

"It's true," Ian stated honestly. Before Trixie could get mad at him, he looked at her with a woebegone expression. "You're not going to tell her, are you?"

Trixie stared at the young man in sympathy and then slowly shook her head. "No, I'm not going to tell her." She hesitated but then continued, "But you should, Ian."

"That's what Tad says," Ian said.

"Maybe you should listen to your best friend."

"Maybe," the young man agreed. Shivering, he looked at his watch, "Why don't you call your parents and tell them I'm going to give you a ride home?"

Shaking her head, Trixie told him, "They should be here any minute. Go on, Ian. I'll be fine. Besides if you catch a cold waiting with me, the basketball team will never forgive me."

He snorted in amusement and glanced around. There were still a few couples lingering by the cars parked in front of the Ryans' house. Looking back at her, he nodded. "Okay but promise you'll go back inside if they don't come soon…"

"Promise," she agreed.

With a jaunty salute, Ian turned, bounded down the steps and raced toward his car. Trixie smiled as he got in the Camaro and drove off. Several minutes later, all of the lingering teenagers had left, leaving Trixie alone on the steps.

It was a cold, blustery night. The wind had picked up and it was brisk and biting. For a moment, she considered going back into the Ryans' house. The party was still going on inside but Trixie didn't feel like rejoining the festivities.

Lost in thought, Trixie aimlessly stepped off the porch and wandered down the walkway. She looked down at her phone. There were text messages from Honey and Di. Pushing the button, she read Honey's message first.

"Another great year for the Bob-Whites. Wish you were here. Happy New Year."

Scrolling down, she looked at Di's text.

"Dan and I say hi and happy new year. Mart says salu-somethings that I can't spell. "

Trixie smiled at her friends' messages. It was nice to know that Honey and Di had remembered her while they were having fun in Times Square. Slowly, she texted best wishes to the two girls. Even with gloves encasing her hands, Trixie felt like her fingers were frozen. As she finished, the wind made a weird whistling sound. Suddenly, Trixie felt uneasy. There was something in the air—something ominous and threatening. She glanced around nervously.

Where are Dad and Moms? She wondered anxiously, looking at her watch. It's been over fifteen minutes.

As if it planned, her phone chimed, informing her that she had a new message. Looking at the screen, she saw that it was from her mother.

"We were stopped by Mr. Ellington as we were sneaking out. Be there in five minutes."

Trixie's breath puffed out in a little cloud. Deciding that it was too cold to stay outside, she started toward the Ryans' front door. As she walked up the pathway, Trixie heard a strange sound behind her. Spinning, she searched the darkness around her. The street lamps gave off some light but inky shadows surrounded the trees, bushes and neighboring houses. Disgusted with herself, she shook her head at her jitteriness and turned back toward the house.

"Trixie…"

It must be the wind, she thought but then the wind gusted again and it didn't sound like a whisper.

A familiar shiver ran down Trixie's back. Frozen in her tracks, she looked over her shoulder. There was a shape looming in the darkness across the street. The dark silhouette seemed to be staring at her. Whatever or whoever it was looked like it was dressed in black. She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she reopened her eyes, the figure was gone.

Where did it go? Instinctively, Trixie turned and took a step toward the street. She wondered, Was it a figment of my imagination?

With determination, she went down the pathway toward the street, her eyes searching the darkness for the strange figure. As she reached the edge of sidewalk, she heard the whisper again. The voice was deep, low and gruff.

"Trixie…"

That is not the wind.

She stepped down off the sidewalk. The silhouette did not reappear but she could feel its presence and hear its throaty whisper, calling her name from the inky shadows across the street.

The need to know what it was consumed Trixie and adrenaline raced through her body. She had to know what it wanted—why it kept calling her name-but as she started to cross the street, she heard another voice.

"Trix, one of the most important things I've learned since working with Jackson is that you always need back-up. You never go into a dangerous situation by yourself."

She stopped. Scott Calder's voice was real and clear, almost like he was standing beside her. Suddenly, the intense need for knowledge faded and something Trixie had never felt before rushed through her.

She didn't turn around but she backed up slowly—onto the sidewalk and up the walkway to the Ryans' porch, her eyes carefully searching for the danger that had her instincts on high alert. When she reached the steps, she whirled, raced up them and across the front porch to the door. She didn't knock. She just threw open the door and ran inside, the strange new need for self-preservation fueling her every step.