The Last Dance
From the Back Cover
Boy meets girl. Online. It’s one deadly web.
Spring is about to give way to summer and love is in the air. Heather Barnes can’t believe she’s discovered the guy of her dreams—John Knox, a senior from a nearby high school. He’s mature, athletic, and handsome. He’s even a Christian.
The fact that Heather has never actually met John in person is no big deal—or so she thinks. Against the advice of her best friend, Jodi Adams, Heather intends to go with John to the Junior-Senior Prom.
Across town, FBI Agent Nick Steele is in hot pursuit of Billy Bender, a cyberstalker who is planning to add another face to his website, MegaFear.com. He attracts his victims in chat rooms. Billy knows all the right words. And he’s had plenty of practice.
Some things even the FBI can’t stop.
Jodi, convinced that Heather is headed for disaster, dares to save Heather from what might be her last dance.
That was Jodi’s first mistake.
The Last Dance
Bob DeMoss
The Soul Survivor Series
Mind Siege Project
All the Rave
The Last Dance
Black Friday
For Carissa and Aaron Shapiro
May the Lord always be the One who inspires your dance together
The Last Dance
Copyright © 2020 Bob DeMoss. All rights reserved.
Published by Bob DeMoss. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Thom Schupp.
Cover copyright ©2020 Bob DeMoss.
Scripture quotations used in this book are from The New King James Version, copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Apart from obvious historical references to public figures, places and events, all characters and incidents in this novel are the products of the authors’ imaginations. Any similarities to people living or dead are purely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America
01 02 03 04 05 06 XXX 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Prologue
1. Wednesday 5:33 PM
2. Wednesday 7:27 PM
3. Wednesday 7:33 PM
4. Wednesday 8:25 PM
5. Thursday 7:15 AM
6. Thursday 12:22 PM
7. Thursday 3:47 PM
8. Thursday 7:50 PM
9. Thursday 9:02 PM
10. Thursday 9:30 PM
11. Thursday 11:22 PM
12. Friday 1:03 AM
13. Friday 6:51 AM
14. Friday 7:00 AM
15. Friday 7:55 AM
16. Friday, 12:14 PM
17. Friday 1:04 PM
18. Friday 5:21 PM
19. Friday 5:33 PM
20. Friday 5:36 PM
21. Friday 5:44 PM
22. Friday 5:49 PM
23. Friday 5:55 PM
24. Friday 6:15 PM
25. Friday 6:35 PM
26. Friday 7:05 PM
27. Friday 7:55 PM
28. Friday 8:05 PM
29. Friday 8:35 PM
30. Friday 8:41 PM
31. Friday 9:01 PM
32. Saturday 6:59 AM
Black Friday
Black Friday Prologue
About the Author
Prologue
It was Tuesday night and the Philadelphia Memorial Public Library closed in fifteen minutes. The array of five iMac Pro computers arranged on a large wooden table sat idle. At precisely 9:45, a man wearing a loose denim jacket with a knapsack in his right hand entered the old, brick library. He passed by the checkout desk, careful to avoid eye contact with the librarian, and then made his way to the computer station at the rear of the facility.
He took his usual spot behind the computer that faced away from public scrutiny. He placed his bag on the floor at his feet. He cracked his knuckles and then logged on to the Internet, thankful that the head librarian refused to install filtering software. He connected to his virtual private network to mask his digital identity and activities.
While his Double VPN service added significant protection from hackers or, more importantly, the prying eyes of government agencies snooping on him, the cascading of serial VPN connections wasn’t foolproof. In cyberspace nothing was completely secure. That was a risk he had to take. He had considered stepping up to a quad VPN service, but the data transfer of his files would take forever.
The glow of the computer screen cast a pale, bluish white light on his unshaven face as he worked. Seconds later, he opened his knapsack, retrieved an 8-gigabite USB thumb drive, reached around behind the monitor and jammed it into the port on the back of the computer which—just his luck—had an available port for accessories and peripherals. Within several minute the compressed contents would be uploaded to his website.
As he worked, a voice from the overhead intercom softly informed all patrons to make their final selections and proceed to the checkout. The library would close in seven minutes. He checked his watch. No problem. He needed just four minutes more for the files to complete their upload.
He continued his routine in silence, his fingers dancing across the keyboard with purpose as he updated the Instagram account with several images to tease his followers with an upcoming live streaming event.
The transfer of data from the disk to the web now complete, he initiated a reverse transfer of financial information to the thumb drive. A smile eased across his face as he reviewed the last in a long string of numbers. This is what they had worked so hard for over the last year. All of the risks they had taken were now paying off big time. He read the number again.
One million dollars.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the number. With his damp left hand he stroked his chin for a long moment before logging off. He removed the thumb drive and placed it in his bag, then retrieved a lint-free washcloth and a small spray bottle from a side pocket. He sprayed a gentle mist of the special solution onto the cloth and then wiped off the keyboard and the body of the computer where he had inserted the drive. Satisfied, he replaced the items in the knapsack.
As he stood to leave, he glanced at the clock on the wall: 9:58. He flung the knapsack over one shoulder and then took his time as he walked past the stacks of reference materials, careful not to touch anything as he departed. When the librarian offered a good night, he managed a grunt—and no eye contact.
Outside the library, he paused to withdraw his vape pen from within his denim jacket. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs as he lingered at the top of the concrete steps leading to the parking lot. He began to descend the dozen steps, but stopped when his cellphone played a distinct melody. He had specifically assigned this tune to help him identify the caller before he answered it.
Although he half expected the call, his heart still jumped. His nerves always seemed to be on heightened sensitivity during his trips to the library. He took another puff, slipped the pipe into his jacket pocket, then looked around to ensure his conversation wouldn’t be heard before answering. “Yo.”
“What’s the good word?”
He gripped the phone and spoke just above a whisper. “We just hit the magic number: fifty thousand monthly subscribers. Hold on . . .” He looked over his shoulder as two teens left the building. He waited for them to pass. “At twenty bucks a pop that’s, what, a million bucks. I’m talking every month. Gotta love it, right?” He could hear a whistle on the other end of the line. “And this is just the beginning.”
“You the man,” the voice sai
d. “Come see me as soon as you can. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”
“I’ll try. Hang in there, bro.” That said, he signed off. He stuffed his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and then headed to his vehicle.
1
Wednesday 5:33 PM
“Heather, you can’t be serious.” Jodi Adams wiped her fingers on a napkin as she spoke. “You actually turned Stan down? I mean, this is the prom we’re talking about. And you’ve always said he’s so, you know—hot!”
Heather Barnes shrugged off her best friend’s assessment. “And why is my decision such a big deal?” Heather reached for another fry. “Stan’s a big boy. He’ll find someone else. Come to think of it, why don’t you go with him, Kat? I saw the way you two were hanging out—”
“Right.” Kat Koffman rolled her eyes. “As if I’m just gonna ask him. Don’t get me wrong; if he asked me I’d go in a heartbeat.”
“I still say you should reconsider, Heather,” Jodi said.
“Don’t hate me,” said Kat, chewing on a wad of gum as she sat between Jodi and Heather, “but I think I’m with Jodi on this. I mean, most girls—”
“I know, I know.” Heather waved her off. She scrunched her nose before adding, “. . . most girls would just d-i-e to go with Stan ‘da Man’ to the prom.”
The trio sat closely in the corner booth of Johnny Angel’s, a ’50s retro diner considered the absolute best place to get a shake, burger, and fries. The girls had almost depleted a boat of chili-cheese fries while waiting for their meal.
“Besides,” Heather added, her eyes drifting down toward the black-and-white-checkered floor, “if he cared so much, why’d he wait until the very last minute to ask me?” She looked up at Jodi. “I mean, the prom is in two days and he only asked this morning. Really?”
“Hold on,” Kat said. “Let me get this straight. Some girls would do anything to be asked to the prom at all. You get asked by a 100 percent, USDA-grade he-man and you turn him down—because he waited until the week of the prom? I just don’t get it.” Kat shook her head.
“Even if I wanted to go with him,” Heather said, “I’ve already said yes to someone else.”
The alarm on Kat’s watch launched into a nagging beep. “Time out, everybody.” She made a T-sign with her hands. “Gotta take another horse tablet, or your kidney’s gonna throw a tantrum, Jodi.”
“Wrong-O. Your body’s the one with rejection issues,” Jodi said, smiling. A couple of months earlier Jodi had donated one of her kidneys to Kat, who was involved in a life-threatening accident during a boating trip. But several days ago Kat’s body began to reject the kidney. She might have died at a rave party if not for the help of Jodi and Bruce Arnold, a mutual friend from school.
Kat swallowed hard as she downed the medicine with a glass of water. “But thank God for these pills, right? So where were we?”
“How Heather dissed Stan,” Jodi said smartly.
“Whatever.” Heather threw a crumpled napkin at Jodi.
“Come on, Heather, we’ve been friends forever, right?” Jodi asked. “So, what gives? Why’d you snub him?”
“First of all, I didn’t snub him,” Heather said. She peeled the paper from her straw before stuffing it into her strawberry shake. “I just don’t like putting myself in a situation with someone who has a bad reputation, that’s all. I figured you of all people would understand that much.”
“Hey, I’m kinda new at this whole Christianity thing, right?” Kat chimed in. “Help me out here. Why is it a major sin or whatever to go with Stan, anyway?” She looked in Heather’s direction.
Heather knew Kat had invited Jesus into her heart a week ago. She smiled. “I . . . well, let’s just say that I think Stan’s a great guy,” Heather started. “And I’m not saying it would be a sin to go with him, or anything like that. He can be a blast to hang out with—”
“Don’t we know,” Kat cut in with a wink.
“Anyway, it’s just that he’s got certain, shall we say, expectations.” She paused to see if Kat followed her drift, but was met with a blank expression. “Physical expectations,” Heather added.
“Oh, now I get it,” Kat said, nodding.
“Listen, Kat, I’m not some holier-than-thou type,” Heather said, raking her hand through her blonde hair. “But, there are some people who might not understand, you know? Besides, like I said, I’ve got other plans.”
“Got it,” Kat said. “Boy, do I have a lot to learn.” Kat reached for the salt shaker. “How about you, Jodi? Are you going?”
“Nah.” Jodi hooked her hair behind her right ear. “And I’m totally cool with that, trust me. I mean, picture me dancing with a couple of bruised ribs.” She winced as her right side throbbed at the thought.
For Jodi, it had started ten days ago at an all-night dance party in south Philadelphia. She had changed her mind to go at the last minute, joining Kat, Heather, Bruce, and Stan “da Man” Taylor, the star of the football team. In the end, Jodi found herself running for her life after stumbling upon the dark truth behind the men who sponsored the event. The nightmare ended with a bang when her car crashed into the side of a building, fracturing several ribs. The doctor explained that it would take her several months to heal. She was cautioned to take it easy in the meantime.
Jodi’s memories were interrupted when a waitress, juggling three oversized plates, appeared at the edge of the table. “Who’s got the burger and onion rings?”
“That’d be me,” Kat said, reaching for the plate. Her bangle bracelets jangled as she moved.
“Cheesesteak?”
“Right here,” Heather directed, clearing a space for the dish.
“Guess the salad’s for you, dear,” the waitress said, dropping the plate in front of Jodi with a thunk.
“Thank you.” Jodi suppressed a laugh.
“Youse guys need anything else, just holler, okay?” She turned and left before anyone could respond.
“So, Heather,” Kat said as she baptized her hamburger with catsup. “What’s with this mystery date we’ve been hearing all about?”
Jodi noticed that Heather looked away for a split second before answering.
“Um, yeah, I’m going with him,” Heather said.
“Hey, maybe you know this, Heather, since your on the Student Senate.” Jodi began, trying to draw her out. “Why is the prom so late this year? I mean, it’s almost the middle of June.”
Heather took a bite from her sandwich and nodded as she chewed. “The gym floor, remember?” She mumbled the words with her mouth still full.
“What about it?” Jodi asked.
Heather swallowed. “They had to repair it after the ceiling leaked,” she said, “but there was a delay or something with the wood tiles so we had to postpone the prom until now. We tried to move it to a different location but everything was already booked.”
“Right, but what about Mr. Wonderful? Who is he?” Kat’s earrings clinked as she tilted her head.
Heather took another bite. When she finished chewing, she said, “Well, he’s a senior at Villanova High—”
“Ooh, a rich kid,” Kat joked with a friendly smile.
“Maybe. Okay—probably,” Heather said. “But that isn’t important. What matters is that he’s about the most sensitive, understanding guy I know.”
Jodi threw her a skeptical look.
“He is,” Heather said. “Whenever my parents are on my case—or I have a really bad day—he just seems to know how to lift my spirits. Remember that day when I was home sick last week?”
Jodi and Kat nodded.
“Well, he said if it were up to him, he’d come over to my house and make me a bowl of chicken noodle soup.” A faraway look floated across Heather’s eyes. “Wasn’t that so sweet? He always says stuff like that, especially when I’ve been down. Guess you could say he makes me feel special, you know?”
Jodi dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She felt like gagging, but restrained herself. “So what’s h
is name, or do we need to beat it out of you?”
“John Knox.” Heather smiled softly as she spoke his name.
Jodi and Kat were quick to pounce with their questions.
“Where’d you meet him?”
“What’s he look like?”
“Is he a jock?”
“When do we meet him?”
“Hey, what is this?” Heather protested. “The Grand Inquisition?”
Jodi leaned toward Kat’s ear and said, “Man, she’s got it bad.” They shared a laugh.
“Ooh! And she’s all top secret about him, too,” Kat said while giving Heather a friendly elbow.
“Cut it out, guys.” Heather put down her sandwich and folded her slender arms. “Actually, we met on Tinder. And, I only agreed to swipe right because his About Me section said he’s a Christian, if you must know. He’s eighteen and he’s—”
“On Tinder?” Jodi said. Her right eyebrow shot up. “You never told me this part. When was this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe two or three months ago. Why? What’s the big deal?” Heather said, shifting in her seat. “We’ve been DMing almost every night. Oh, and I’ve got his picture right here in my purse—”