He thought he'd seen this kind of behavior before.
The hesitation.
The calculation.
The deliberate refusal to comply that some people, in Kerr's mind, mistook for a legal right.
His hand moved toward his radio.
The other settled near his belt.
He wasn't leaving without answers.
And if the door didn't open soon, he had already started deciding that he would stop asking.
Jake heard the knock and did not move toward the door.
He had already noticed the cruiser stop two houses down.
Noted the make.
Noted the positioning.
Noted the single officer who remained seated longer than a routine patrol response usually required.
Most officers handling a simple welfare check pulled up, approached, knocked, asked a few questions, and moved on.
This officer had studied the house before stepping out.
That told Jake something.
Now, standing near the window, Jake studied Kerr in return.
Tight jaw.
Hand settling close to the belt.
A knock that communicated command rather than inquiry.
Jake had dealt with men like him before.
Not necessarily bad men.
But dangerous men.
Men whose authority had become so deeply fused with their identity that resistance to one felt like an attack on the other.
Jake stepped away from the window.
He retrieved his credentials.
Federal identification.
Designation card.
Emergency contact card.
The field-office duty number printed clearly at the bottom.
He held everything in his left hand.
Then moved to the front door.
He stopped several feet away.
"Officer."
His voice was calm.
Loud enough to carry through the door without sounding aggressive.
"I hear you. I'm not ignoring you. I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you."
A pause.
Then Kerr.
"Open this door."
"I will cooperate fully," Jake said. "But I need to inform you that this is a federally designated property currently supporting an active protective operation."
Silence.
"I am a federal officer. Before this door opens, I need confirmation that you have a warrant, or I need your supervising officer involved."
Jake kept his voice even.
"That isn't defiance. That's protocol."
The silence from outside lasted about 2 seconds.
Then Kerr answered.
Harder than before.
"I don't need a warrant for a disturbance call. Open the door or I will open it."
Jake closed his eyes briefly.
Not because he was scared.
Because there was a particular exhaustion in watching a situation move toward disaster while the person causing it ignored every opportunity to stop.
"Officer, I'm asking you to contact dispatch and request a jurisdiction check on this address before taking any further action."
Jake paused.
"One call will clarify everything. It will take less than 2 minutes."
"You have 10 seconds."
Jake moved closer to the narrow side window beside the door.
He pressed his federal identification against the inside of the glass.
Angled it so the seal and photograph could be seen.
"I'm showing you my credentials through the side window."
He held them steady.
"Federal protective intelligence. Look at what I'm showing you before you make a decision you can't reverse."
Jake heard movement outside.
A shift of weight.
Then a pause.
For a moment, he thought Kerr might actually be reading the credentials.
Then Kerr answered.
"That could be anything. Fake IDs exist."
A beat.
"You've got 5 seconds."
Jake straightened.
Breathing controlled.
Hands visible.
He wasn't going to shout.
Wasn't going to threaten.
Wasn't going to give Kerr one thing he could later point to as justification.
"Officer Kerr."
Jake had read the name tag through the glass.
Using the officer's name was deliberate.