Page 65 of Retaking the Shot
The next morning,I called the police station closest to Coop’s apartment and explained I wanted to come in and file a report for a sexual assault that happened almost eight years ago. I was connected to a detective who was part of the Sexual Assault Response Team, and he made an appointment for me to come by the station to meet with him.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted as Coop drove us to my appointment.
He rested his hand on my thigh. “You’ve got this, baby.”
“Yeah, but what if the recording from last night isn’t enough?” Every fear I had before about no one believing me about the rape came rushing back.
“You can’t worry about that part. You’re doing what you believe is best in this situation, and that’s all you can do.”
“You sound like my therapist,” I teased.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all. She’s helped me so much over these past few months.”
“Are you going to call her after you file your report?”
“I texted her this morning after I called the station. She offered to clear some space in her schedule this afternoon if I needed to talk, but I told her I was okay for now. I’ll reach out if I need to.”
We pulled into the parking lot, and I took a deep breath before getting out of his truck.
“You ready?” Coop asked.
I nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He grabbed my hand, and we walked into the station together.
A uniformed woman was sitting at the front desk, and when she saw us walk in, she offered a kind smile. “Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah. I’m here to meet with Detective Stafford.”
“Can I get your name?”
“Ford Mahoney,” I replied.
“I’ll let him know you’re here. You can take a seat over there while you wait.” She pointed to a row of plastic chairs lined up against the wall.
Ten minutes later, a man dressed in a dress shirt and slacks came out to where Coop and I were seated. “Mr. Mahoney?”
“Yes.” I stood.
“I’m Detective Stafford. Why don’t you come on back to my office?”
“Can my boyfriend come back with me?”
The detective glanced at Coop, and I noticed a hint of recognition cross his face. He nodded and replied, “Absolutely.”
We followed him down the hall and into a small office. He closed the door behind us and said, “Have a seat, gentlemen.”
Sitting across from his chair, I could feel my palms get a little sweaty. Coop draped his arm across the back of my chair and rested his hand on my shoulder comfortingly.
“Thank you for coming in. If you don’t mind, I’d like to record our conversation to ensure I have all the details as we proceed with an investigation. Is that okay with you?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
He placed a recording device on his desk and turned it on. “Now, when we spoke on the phone, you said you wanted to report a sexual assault that happened eight years ago?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
