"If I'm checking possible fraudulent occupancy and the occupant refuses to cooperate, I may need to request a welfare assessment. People inside may have to come out. We can't leave them in an unsafe situation." His mouth lifted in a small smile. "That can get messy."
Raymond looked past him toward the kitchen window. Through the glass he could see a movement he knew intimately: Sandra reaching for a cup from the cupboard, shifting her weight onto one foot while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She had not yet seen the officer standing in the driveway. Their house, their marriage, their ordinary Saturday seemed suddenly vulnerable to the arbitrary decisions of one man with a radio.
"Are you threatening to remove my wife from our home?" Raymond asked. His voice was quieter than before. Puit shrugged.
"I'm explaining what can happen when people don't cooperate with an investigation." "There is no basis for a welfare removal, and you know it." Puit looked at him steadily. "Then save everybody the trouble and give me your ID."
The old impulse to end the encounter by displaying his badge returned, stronger this time. Raymond could feel the worn leather of the wallet against his back pocket, an ordinary pressure that represented years of work and the authority he had earned. He knew a badge would likely change the officer's tone in an instant. But Sandra should not have been safer because her husband happened to be a detective sergeant, and a homeowner without that credential would have had no comparable answer to Puit's threat.
He did not imagine that he could conduct a private experiment without risk. The officer's hand still hovered near his duty belt, and Raymond understood the danger of delaying any step that might calm him. He had no intention of provoking violence, of testing how far an armed man could be pushed, or of winning an argument in front of neighbors. He wanted a supervisor present, an official record created, and an opportunity for this behavior to be evaluated by people who could not simply dismiss it as another unhappy citizen's complaint.
"Officer Puit," Raymond said, reading the name tag clearly, "I'm requesting that you contact your supervisor." The officer's smile disappeared. "I don't need a supervisor." "I'm asking you to call one anyway." Raymond held the silence after the request. "Before this goes any farther, I want another officer here to see what's happening."
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," Puit said. "I can handle a simple welfare check without someone standing over my shoulder." Raymond glanced toward the cruiser, then back at him.
"You have a clean registration, a resident who has not threatened you, and a neighbor who has confirmed the address. A supervisor can explain why you're still here." Puit's eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses. "You don't tell me how to do my job."