In answer I held up my whistle. Like Christa, I hadn't ever thought I'd need it—that anyone would need it. But as I'd gotten dressed this morning, I...d realized it wasn't near to hand—and it had stopped being a question. I must wear the whistle. That was simple fact. It was common sense; Mark might try something, and it'd be foolish to go around without my forearms since I was already forewarned. (Not to mention people would give me weird looks, walking around with arms ending at the elbow.) But. This was Monday morning and Ken had been relaxing by the pool with Marcia, after doing what exercises he could with his arm in a sling. Then Marta had come out from answering a phone call. The call had been from Walter Neilson. He had told Marta that the investigator watching Ken's ex-wife had informed him that Belinda had gotten drunk Saturday night and left the baby in a biker bar under the supposed care of one of the waitresses. It had taken all day Sunday, but the judge had ruled that the. More

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