Duval had to adjust his hold on the little girl to make sure that she didn’t fall off of his leg.
Her gaze was completely serious as she met his gaze. “I wanna go to Charm School, Mister King.”
He stared down at Ciela, wondering if he’d heard the little girl correctly. “Charm School? Why?”
“Cuz I wanna be like you, Mister King! I wanna be charming!”
Oh brother, he groaned inwardly. The last thing he was was charming.
He wanted to shake his head, but he didn’t want to upset Ciela or disappoint her.
“I... I don’t think the charm school is even around anymore.”
Ciela’s bottom lip came out in a pout and damn it, Duval couldn’t stand to see it.
Reaching out, he tapped her bottom lip with the tip of his finger. “But I think the ballet studio I took classes at is still around.”
“Ballet?” Ciela sat up, her eyes sparkling. “Can I go?”
Duval slid a side long glance at Noelle sitting beside him. “What do you say, honey?”
He thought he could see something in her eyes that stirred an answering need inside of him.
He hoped he was right, because as much as he’d always seen himself as a kind of feral creature when it came to relationships, he was beginning to see the benefits of being domesticated.
He shook his head at the wording in his head and when he turned to look at his mother, he saw a knowing smile on her face.
He had a feeling that she could see right through his thick skull to the thoughts inside of his head.
The trouble was, he didn’t have a single problem with it.
CHAPTER 15
DUVAL
It didn’t take more than a few days for him to regret asking Noelle to tackle the old, grainy photo for an identification.
It wasn’t that she was doing a bad job.
It was that she’d become consumed with it.
When she said she wanted to help bring Aracely’s killer to justice, she wasn’t just saying the words.
She’d spent every moment she could drafting and re-drafting images about the man.
Anthony Coolidge.
The S.W.A.T. team had been busy serving warrants for the Texas Rangers, knocking down doors to bring people in.
They’d also been involved in a bank robbery turned hostage situation.
Perhaps that was why they hadn’t known about a news story that had suddenly taken over the news.
LOCAL ARTIST SEARCHES FOR KILLER
Douglas, that fucker, had been bragging to one of his friends about ‘their’ investigation into Aracely Santos’ murder. Like the man had a damn thing to do about it. He’d talked about the artist who’d given Aracely her face again and how she was workingon putting a face to the murderer. He’d been seconds short of handing out the name when he realized there was someone listening in.
At least that’s what he’d said to Chief Fagan when he’d had his ass hauled into the office.
