Anyways, whilst procrastinating (I'm very good at that) I put up a TCS page on good ole Blogger here F.Y.E. It gives a bit of insight into Caleb and Peyton's world and most of it, unlike Wonderland, is based upon actual places and people. It's a bit of reading, and since Blogger sucks with pictures, most of those kinds of things are linked to other places on the Web, so don't be surprised when you may have a browser full of open web pages (sorry in advance)!
And just to give you guys a taste, here's a teaser from TCS Ch06:
“You nervous?” Peyton had to ask.
Caleb suddenly smirked. “Not as much as I thought I’d be.”
Peyton nodded and was surprised to see them already at the police station. They parked and went inside, and Peyton had to admit to herself that while Caleb wasn’t nervous – she was. Caleb took her hand as they entered the small brick building, squeezing gently as they followed the signs to the lobby and front desk where three young looking men in uniform were working.
Caleb didn’t let her hand go as he got their attention. “I’m here to report about an assault,” he stated, his voice never wavering. Out of nowhere a surge of protectiveness swept through Peyton and she drew herself closer to Caleb, holding his arm in a way that screamed MINE!
Instantly all three men reacted, their eyes darting between the two of them. “Who is making the report?” asked the middle officer, his pale blue eyes locked onto Peyton.
Caleb’s other hand bunched into a fist, the first sign of his unease so far. “I am,” he said quietly.
“Officer Clinton is in charge of our domestic violence team,” said the officer on the left, his shiny name badge identifying him as R. TULLY. “I’ll take you to his office.”
Peyton and Caleb nodded and watched as the dark-skinned man stood to his full, imposing height before coming around the desk and escorting them through the rather busy maze of desks and men towards the back of the building. Here there was an entire row of large offices with golden plaques marking names and divisions, every single grey door open and occupied.
Officer Clinton had his own office at the end of the row, and at the sight of Tully, he abandoned the paperwork in front of him and stood. He looked to be in his mid to late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and slate blue eyes that gave nothing away. He stood at a pretty impressive height, maybe just an inch shorter than Tully’s six foot three and filled out his uniform with hard muscle. Peyton couldn’t help but notice he didn’t wear a wedding ring and his office was void of any photos.
“Officer Clinton knows what he’s doing,” Tully told Caleb. “Trust him.” He gave a nod to me and left, shutting the door behind him.
Clinton shook hands with us and beckoned us to sit. His gaze went back and forth between us for a few seconds before he spoke.
“It isn’t often I see young men reporting to me in this office,” he said in a quiet tone that was bizarrely similar to Caleb’s. “Assuming that you are actually here to report something,” Clinton directed at Caleb.
“I am,” Caleb replied tersely, his body tensing up automatically.
Clearly for someone who knew what they were doing, he didn’t mind pressing Caleb’s buttons. Or maybe, Peyton wondered, that was the point.
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