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"Hello? Can I help you?" Jakob asked the man standing on his porch wearing a pleasant enough — but empty — expression.
"I'm hoping so, sir," the man said with an unnerving sort of too-friendly confidence.
He fished out a small leather wallet with the ease of long practice; flipping it open and shut with practically the same movement far too fast for Jakob to properly see.
"Y'see, I don't know if you heard about that boy that's been kidnapped recently?" the man continued easily enough. But though his words sounded friendly and light, there was definitely more than just a hint of ice and iron hiding underneath. "Been all over the news since yesterday? Got a tip early this morning he might've been seen around your property. Mind if I come in and ask you a few questions?"
"I'm sorry. But my daughter and her friends from school are home today. This isn't a very good time," Jakob said, despite not feeling sorry at all. In fact, if he were honest? There had been a little zip of thrill shooting up his spine at the expression of frustration on the officer's face, before it was quickly and professionally smoothed away.
"I can understand that, sir. But if you would just — "
"Can I see your badge again? You hear all these stories about people impersonating police these days and I didn't get a very good look, Officer, uh… What did you say your name was?"
"Of course," the officer said, looking as if bringing his badge back out for Jakob to examine actually physically pained him. "And it'sDetective."
"Ah, my apologies. What can I do for you, Detective… Martin?" Jakob asked with forced calm. He tried to raise his voice somewhat. Nottooobviously, but still hopefully loud enough to be heard all the way over at the dining table, even over the lure of gaming with friends.
Judging by how fast Detective Martin's smile slipped, Jakob’s attempt at subtlety hadn't been much of a success.
"Look,sir," Detective Martin tried again, a small tic twitching in his left cheek. "This really will go far easier if I could come inside and we can sit while I ask you these questions. I'm sure you want to see this boy returned to his family, right?"
Whatever Jakob was going to say next was drowned out by the sudden whoop that came from the direction of Jakob's dining table.
It was quickly followed by a bright peal of laughter, almost — but not quite — drowning out Alex's answering cry of, "You fucking bastard! That wasmyquest. You better share your fucking gold or I swear…"
But Detective Martin didn't seem interested in waiting to find out it was what Alex was about to swear.
Instead, he used the distraction to try and push past Jakob; leaving no question in Jakob’s mind that he fully intended to come inside the house, permission or no. He even already had one shiny polished patent leather shoe firmly wedged into the doorway so Jakob couldn't shut the door on him.
At this point, most people's instinct was probably to step back; that old Saturday morning cartoon conditioning kicking in to 'let the police officers do their jobs'.
But Jakob's instincts, however, werenotthat of most people — not by this point in his life.
The detective was brought up short at the barrier of Jakob's cane; weight shifted forward, blocking the doorway as he held it in a steel grip.
"Sir," Detective Martin ground out from between clenched teeth. "Please move out of the way."
"No," Jakob firmly answered him back in the same tone, pasting a politely apologetic smile on his face. "I think this is the point I ask to see your warrant, right?"
"Let mein— "
"No," Jakob repeated, all pretense at politeness evaporating the instant the detective tried to shoulder past him and into his home. "Not even if you huff and puff."
"Sir, this is not a joke. That is mysonyou are holding in there — "
"Not holding anyone," Jakob growled back at him. "It's my house. Get a warrant or go home, but I'm not inviting you in to harass my family and guests. I'll — "
Looking back, Jakob could only remember what happened next in bits and pieces. It was almost like a strobe light at one of Reed's DJ’ing gigs; all flashes and snatches, moments of movement, sound. The peculiar feeling that everything was happening both too fast and too slow, all at the same exact moment.
There was another loud bark of laughter from inside, this time sounding as if Alex had gotten one over on Liam in their game.
The reassuringly solid presence of Ethan, appearing at his shoulder. The warmth; the rumble of the words, "Everything alright, Jakob?"
There was the way Detective Martin twisted as he reached for his hip —
…the angle of his arm, the pull of his shoulder…
Such a familiar movement to Jakob, one he had seen far too many times before —
