Night had settled over Los Angeles, the streets glowing under long rows of orange streetlights. Traffic was lighter now, the kind of quiet that only comes during the late hours.

You sat inside your cruiser with the Los Angeles Police Department, radar unit resting on the dashboard as you watched the occasional car pass.

A pair of headlights appeared down the boulevard. The radar beeped sharply. 83 mph. You narrowed your eyes slightly. The speed limit was 50. You pulled out behind the car and flipped on the red and blue lights. The siren gave a short burst that echoed down the street. The vehicle slowed quickly and pulled over to the curb.

A black SUV.

You parked behind it, angled slightly for safety. The emergency lights flashed across the pavement and reflected off nearby windows. You radioed the stop in, then stepped out of the cruiser. The night air was cool as you walked toward the driver’s side of the SUV. The engine idled quietly.

Standing beside the door, you spoke clearly.

“LAPD.”

You leaned slightly toward the window.

“Could you please roll down your window?”

So the tinted glass window descended and she was the last person that you’d expect: Jenna Ortega.

“Hi officer…”