“Kit, what’s wrong? Do you feel all right?”

“I just got a phone call from someone at the conference who’s over at the hotel and knew I went to a comedy club with that girl—”

“The one who left you there.”

Kit nodded. “Georgina Mathieson is her name. A good friend of hers was arrested today for shoplifting. She and Georgina went on quite a spree in Atlanta on Saturday. Someone wrote down part of this other girl’s license plate number. They have the two of them on security tapes, stuffing clothing into their bags. The police caught up with Georgina’s friend Paulette a few hours ago.”

“Georgina’s a shoplifter?” Regan asked. “Maybe she’s headed down to my apartment.”

“What?”

“Someone broke in tonight. I walked in on them and they got away.”

“That’s terrible!” Kit said. “But, Regan, this is worse!”

Regan was about to make a flippant remark, but Kit looked so worried, she stopped herself. “Tell me.”

“This Paulette is cooperating with the police. She told them that Georgina picks up blond guys in comedy clubs, drugs them with knockout drops, then lures them to her car and drives to an isolated place where she burns their arm with a brand that says I AM A SNAKE and leaves them there. Just like she left me tonight! After spending a few minutes with her, I could tell she was odd, but not this crazy. Regan, the hostess at the comedy club said earlier that she’d seen Georgina smoking out on the sidewalk, then getting into a cab with a guy who bummed a cigarette from her. A guy who’s blond! He doesn’t know what he’s in for!”

“Comedy clubs!” Billy practically squeaked from the back seat. “My parents never wanted me to be a comedian. Wait until they hear this! For once I’m glad I don’t have blond hair.”

“Kit, I wonder why she invited you to go out with her then.”

“She’d been trying to get a group together. She doesn’t have a car so maybe she didn’t plan on attacking anyone tonight. But the opportunity arose and she couldn’t resist.”

“Is that hostess still at the club?” Regan asked.

“Yes,” Billy answered. “I called. She said she’d wait there if you want to go over and talk to her.”

“Of course I do,” Regan said.

Outside the car, the music on the street was playing louder than ever. People were joyously joining in song. “I want to rock and roll all night…”

“This guy is going to be scarred for life if someone doesn’t find them,” Kit moaned. “Maybe even worse. If I hadn’t agreed to go out with her tonight, she might not have met him…”

“It’s not your fault, Kit,” Regan said. “We’ll do everything we can to find them. I’ll call Jack and he’ll get the word out. Of course, this isn’t the best night to be trying to locate—”

“An assaultive wacko.”

Regan turned the key in the ignition, pressed in Jack’s number on her cell phone, and slowly steered the car through the throng of partyers. All thoughts of the attempted burglary at her apartment had disappeared.