He seemed to genuinely care for me, and because he was the only one who did, I looked forward to him coming to my bed every night."Ivan was the pictur... of patience. He stroked my back for weeks before putting his hands under my nightgown and stroking my bare skin. By then I craved the intimate touch, and missed it when he snuck back out. When Ivan pulled me into a hug, he made me feel safe, and warm. When you are thirteen and a half, and no one so much as patted your head, any touch was. It came out, after muchprodding, and some threats, that this sort of thing has happened before–manytimes before. " "I see," said Mycroft. "And how is it that word of this hasn't made its wayto London?" "I have ways of keeping things under wraps for a little while," said Lechley. "Idon't want to start a panic. But my neighbors seem to be old hands at coveringthis sort of thing up. And where they're concerned, I suspect darker motives.Many, no doubt, are simply afraid. But some, perhaps, are more. More

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