Page 69 of Desert Loyalties
Cheng opens his mouth but Christina cuts him off with a sharp, “Withdrawn.”
She looks back at Munez. “Would you answer, please?”
Munez nods slowly. “Yes, it’s possible.”
I wanted to tell Christina about the burner phone text from Locke, how it told the DEA contact he was leaving. But that was more of a ‘don’t say shit that’ll get me in trouble.’
Christina flips through her notes. “Agent Munez, did you find Mr. Donahue’s body?”
“No.”
Christina turns to the judge. “Your Honor, the prosecution’s case rests on the word of a man who may have been under the influence and whose death is not even proven. He could very well be lying on a beach somewhere. Their claim is Mr. Donahue disappeared and was murdered on July 10. Yet here,” she holds up a stack of papers, “are sworn statements from multiple witnesses placing Mr. Lloyd at his engagement party that very same day. My client was arrested on baseless charges. I move to dismiss for lack of probable cause and to correct this gross injustice.”
The courtroom goes quiet. Judge Benton studies the affidavits, then looks up.
“Counsel for the prosecution, I’m inclined to agree with the defence. Do you have anything to persuade me otherwise?”
Cheng stands, face tight. “Your Honor, I just received word from Nye County. A body matching Mr. Donahue’s description was found near Tonopah. I request 48 hours to complete DNA testing and autopsy.”
Judge Benton taps her gavel lightly. “You’ll have 24 hours. Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning.”
She turns to the bailiff. “Mr. Drake’s release on ankle monitoring continues. Per defence motion, I’m lifting the internet restriction. All other conditions remain.”
Gavel bangs.
Christina packs her bag at the defence table, eyes locking with mine. “You can smile,” she says quietly. “This is good.”
We start toward the aisle when AUSA Henry Cheng steps in front of us, smirking like he owns the place. “Don’t get too happy, LaGuerta. When the DNA comes back, your client’s going to jail for good. But I’ll make you an offer, plead guilty to second-degree murder, serve fifteen years, and I’ll drop the rest of the charges.”
Christina stops, cool and sharp. “My client wants his day in court. And you better believe I’ll be contacting Nye County to confirm that the body, if it exists, matches Mr. Donahue’s description. Otherwise, you’ve just lied to the court.”
She walks past him, leaving the smirk wiped clean from his face.
Chapter 29
SKYE
Today was a good day. Even from the gallery, I could tell the government didn’t have enough evidence. Drake might actually have a chance. But I can’t stop thinking about the body theyfound in Nye County. It could be Locke’s. I was there when Ranger told Grim to get rid of it, but you can’t just make a body disappear. Grim had to have dumped it somewhere and it could have been in Nye County.
I can’t talk about it. We’re not supposed to. Ever since Christina told me, the only way we can actually communicate about this shit is if we get married, it’s been eating at me. I haven’t told Drake. Once Christina left, we went into a bubble, a bubble where Drake couldn’t leave the house. But we were ignoring the looming hearing and trial. I got his help running the businesses by letting the real Skye out and she threw a few punches, verbal and one physical. It was needed. Dino knows who’s boss now.
I haven’t been back to the clubhouse since Drake was released. Not because I don’t miss it, but because Christina warned us it might look like I’m playing messenger between Drake and the club.
They can’t really accuse moms with toddlers of running contraband, though. So, the old ladies have been stopping by regularly, dragging the little terrors along. Drake loves it. Instead of acting as birth control, it’s actually given him baby fever.
The truth? I was already feeling like we were ready for kids before everything went sideways with his arrest. But now, we’ve agreed that we’ll wait. At least until this mess is behind us.
The girls have also taken on the most important task: slowly bringing over my things. I’m guessing the Marshals won’t check diaper bags too closely if they happen to drive by, which they have, several times. They can’t come in, though. Only the pre-trial officer is allowed inside. Christina made sure of that whenshe argued bail, had it written into the conditions that the Marshals don’t have that kind of authority.
Not that there’s anything illegal in the house. Still, I’d rather not give them the chance to rifle through my panties. We’re walking a tightrope. Doing everything we can to avoid giving the judge or the Feds even the smallest excuse to yank Drake’s bail.
I’m driving what Drake calls “a cage” and I’ve got a plan I’m about to spring on him.
The pre-trial officer was clear: Drake and I have to be home within an hour, or the ankle monitor sends a signal to the cops who’ll haul him in for breaking bail conditions.
Pulling into the parking structure, I park the car and say, “Come on, quick. We don’t have much time.”
He looks confused but hears the urgency in my voice and follows.
