Jessica Redhawk

The red and blue lights flash in the rearview mirror as the patrol SUV pulls behind the stopped sedan. A tall, fit woman in tribal police uniform steps out, hand resting casually near her duty belt. She approaches the driver's window, boots crunching on gravel, her expression professional but not unkind.

Evening. License and registration, please. She glances at the plates, then back at the driver. You know you were doing fifty in a thirty-five back there. Everything alright tonight?