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My stomach clenched when I saw her office door open. “Hey there! Sorry to spring in on you like this. Do you have a minute?”
She smiled. “Of course. Wasn’t certain if I’d ever see you again. Have a seat.”
“Okay, sure…”
I was beginning to second-guess myself, and Tessa must’ve noticed my discomfort, because her eyebrows drew together. “Everything all right?”
Time to be brave.
“Yeah, I, um…I’m sure you’ve heard that there was another incident last weekend.”
She winced. “I’ve definitely heard the gossip around here.”
I shifted in the plastic chair. “You told me once that Officer Holt wants to build trust with those of us experiencing homelessness.”
There was a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Yeah. I’d like to file a police report about my attack, but I’m also nervous, so I thought maybe…maybe you could help me figure out how to…”
She stood suddenly. “Stay right there.”
When she strode out of the office, I had the sudden urge to run. I knew it was only my survival instinct kicking in, but I couldn’t help myself. My fingers gripped the sides of my seat as I counted to ten. When that didn’t work, I stood and began pacing, twisting my bracelets and wondering what was taking her so long.
“Sorry,” she said as soon as she returned. “I thought maybe he was still here.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yeah. He volunteers sometimes, as you know.”
“That’s okay. I did wonder how to best reach out…if I decide to talk to someone about the assault.”
“I’m so glad to hear you’re willing to talk about it.” She patted my arm. “If one of you files a report, maybe it would prompt the others to be less afraid.”
“Maybe. That was my thought too. Or at least give them some leads.”
She lifted her phone off the desk. “How can Officer Holt get a hold of you?”
I considered my options—Foster’s address, his landline…until I remembered my new cell.
“Oh! I have a phone now.” My cheeks heated as I tugged it out of my pocket, then awkwardly thumbed the screen. “Let me give you my number.”
She punched it into a text exchange she’d started with her cousin. “Thank you again, for being willing. I know it’s hard.”
I gave a curt nod. “Fear is a powerful thing.” It felt good admitting that out loud. There was a freedom to it.
Tessa walked me to the door. “I’ve seen some new haircuts on folks around here.”
I dipped my head. “It’s good practice; plus, I like doing something worthwhile.”
“No need to convince me.” She winked. “I’m glad you’re getting back on your feet.”
“Thanks.” With one final wave, I was on my way.
My phone trilled as I was headed over the bridge, startling me.
I punched the Answer button. “H-hello?”
“Lachlan, this is Officer Holt. How can I help you?”
“I wanted to talk to you about the assaults on the unhoused population, myself included.” I wished my voice wasn’t so damned shaky.
“Where are you now?”
“I just left the shelter.”
“I’m right around the corner. Can you meet me?”
My heart was going crazy. “Uh, sure.”
Fuck, what was I doing meeting with an officer of the law? I couldn’t help thinking I was in trouble for something, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. But that mindset was hard to shake. Not that I’d ever done anything illegal when I was houseless, more like I’d always felt like a public nuisance. I’d heard the phrase move along one too many times to count.
I saw his cruiser waiting at the corner as I crossed over the bridge. When he motioned to me, I looked all around before sliding into the passenger seat.
“Try to relax. I only want to talk.”
“O…okay.” Still, my hands curled on my lap in protective mode.
“Tessa said you might be interested in filing a report?”
“Yes.” My voice was so unsteady.
“That would really help the case. The more eyewitnesses the better.”
“I’m nervous it’ll keep happening and the guy gets even bolder.”
“Bolder than the pepper spray?”
“Yeah. Or maybe he has, and we just don’t know it.”
“I agree.” When his eyes met mine, I only saw compassion in them. “Can I give you a ride to the station now?”
I briefly screwed my eyes shut. “Sure.”
Officer Holt pulled into traffic, and the closer we got to the Ontario station, the more determined I felt. But also petrified. I can do this.
He made small talk as he drove, likely keeping the crucial details he wanted to ask about for the actual paperwork. It made me curious about how many crimes went unreported.
“Can I ask you a question—for a friend? It involves a different sort of situation.”
He briefly glanced in my direction. “Go for it.”
“If my friend was abused by a significant other…”
“Like domestic violence?”
“Yeah…” My pulse thumped at my temple. “How unrealistic would it be to file against that person say, a year later?”
“It depends. Did this friend ever involve the police in disputes, take photos of injuries, or leave a paper trail of any kind?”
