Page 30 of Desert Loyalties

MANDRAKE

The sun hangs low we pull into the parking lot of the Lloyd Courthouse, named for some long-forgotten judge whose portrait hangs in the entryway, scowling down at everyone like he’s still on the bench.

Skye walks silently beside me. She doesn’t have to say anything. Her presence calms the noise in my head better than any words ever could.

Inside, we hit security; keys, wallet, belt, same old drill.

I don’t flinch anymore when the Marshals stare me down.

I’m not afraid of them. I’m not afraid of prison either.

Not for me. I’m afraid of not getting the chance to walk out of this thing the right way.

I’ve got Skye now. She’s not a dream anymore.

She’s real. My wife. My old lady. And I’ll burn the whole damn courthouse down before I let them take her from me.

“Courtroom 3A,” Christina says, already ahead of us, heels clicking, briefcase in her hand.

Third floor. Outside the door, we wait. Same clerk checks us in, glancing at me like I’m just another docket number. Maybe to her I am.

Then the bailiff appears. “US v. Drake Lloyd.”

We walk into the same courtroom as last time, with the same judge, she’s already sitting with her black robe, cold eyes, lips thin as a blade. Judge Benton. No nonsense. No smiles. No saving grace.

“All rise,” the bailiff calls.

We do. Even though the judge is already seated behind the bench, it’s a ritual, like swearing on the Bible or pretending the prosecution has a case.

“Be seated.” The courtroom settles.

The bailiff clears his throat and reads off the docket in a steady voice.

“Case number CR-25978. United States vs. Drake Lloyd. Continuation of preliminary hearing.”

Judge Benton glances down at the case file, then up at the prosecution’s table.

“Mr. Cheng, at our last hearing, you were granted 24 hours to submit the results of the Nye County body’s autopsy and DNA analysis. Let’s start there.”

AUSA Henry Cheng stands, smooth as ever in his shiny suit.

“Yes, Your Honor. We received confirmation this morning, the DNA is not a match to Mr. Donahue.”

The judge arches a brow. “Then unless you have something new, Mr. Cheng, I’m inclined to agree with defence motion that there is no longer probable cause for this indictment.”

Cheng adjusts his tie, flipping the page of a folder like it’ll give him credibility.

“Your Honor, the government has acquired a new sworn statement from a witness who is present and prepared to testify today. The witness alleges that Mr. Lloyd threatened her on behalf of the Horsemen Motorcycle Club. This shows a pattern of intimidation consistent with Mr. Donahue’s disappearance.”

Christina is on her feet before he even finishes.

“Your Honor, this is a Hail Mary at best. The prosecution misled this court to buy themselves time to find this witness.”

Judge Benton sighs and rubs her temple. “We’re still going to hear the witness. But Mr. Cheng, let’s be clear, you’ve used up your ‘new evidence’ lifeline.”

He nods tightly. He’s losing the room and he knows it.

The side door to the courtroom creaks open.

Every head turns.

And in walks Serena.

My stomach turns, but it's Skye who mutters loud enough for me to hear.

“Fuck.”

Serena’s in a pale blue skirt suit, looking modest, buttoned to the throat, hair pulled back like she’s a damn Sunday school teacher. The last time I saw her; the neckline was a foot lower and her skirt short enough to see her bare pussy.

Serena walks like she knows all eyes are on her. Cunt. The prosecution table damn near glows with smugness.

Christina just sits down slowly, smooth and quiet, but I can see her clock every inch of Serena. Assessing. Calculating. Storing it like ammo.

Judge Benton doesn’t bother hiding the exhaustion in her voice and the day’s barely begun.

“Have your witness sworn in, Mr. Cheng. And this better be worth the court’s time.”

The clerk steps forward. Serena lifts one hand and places the other on the bible.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,” she says, her voice soft, almost frail.

She’s introduced for the record as Serena Albright.

Cheng rises slowly, looking smug. “Ms. Albright, can you tell the court when you first became acquainted with the Horsemen Motorcycle Club?”

Serena blinks, folds her hands in her lap. “It was early 2021. I’d just lost my parents to COVID. I was lost... making a lot of bad decisions.”

I glance at Judge Benton. Her face softens. Shit. She likes her.

Cheng continues, “And what was your relationship to the defendant, Mr. Drake Lloyd?”

Serena hesitates, eyes flicking to me. “Not something I’m proud of... but we were sexually involved.”

Christina is already standing. “Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant. This isn’t a character trial.”

Cheng doesn’t flinch. “Goes to motive, Your Honor. Establishes the nature of their connection before the alleged threat. Pattern of intimidation from someone in a position of power over the witness.”

Judge Benton nods, weary but focused. “Overruled. You may proceed, Mr. Cheng. But keep it tight.”

Cheng nods. “When did you leave the Horsemen?”

Serena’s lips press together. “I didn’t leave. I was kicked out by Drake’s girlfriend.”

Her eyes swing to Skye like she’s delivering a punch. I hate the way she says my name.

“And what happened after that?” Cheng prompts.

Serena swallows, posture tightening. “I tried to come back. The Horsemen were the only family I had. But he,” she points straight at me, hand shaking, “he threatened me.”

Now her whole body’s in performance mode. Crying. Shaking. Sniffling. The act is transparent, but I can tell the judge is buying every word.

Cheng’s voice softens. “Ms. Albright, do you need a break?”

She dabs her cheek with a tissue. “No… I’m alright.”

“And what exactly did Mr. Lloyd say to you?” Cheng asks.

Serena’s voice breaks. “He told me… that if I ever came near anything that belonged to him again, no one would ever see me. That no one would even miss me.”

The courtroom is silent. Every word hangs heavy.

Christina rises smoothly, voice firm but calm. “Your Honor, objection. Hearsay and highly prejudicial. This statement doesn’t speak to any fact in issue and is clearly designed to inflame.”

Cheng steps in before the judge can respond. “Rule 404(b), Your Honor. The testimony is not being offered to prove character, it’s being offered to show a pattern of behaviour. Consistent with the current charges of witness intimidation and obstruction.”

Judge Benton leans back in her chair, clearly not thrilled to be navigating evidentiary law before lunch.

Christina doesn’t sit. “Respectfully, this so-called pattern is unsupported. The government is reaching. They brought this witness in after failing to substantiate the presence of a body yesterday. This is a desperation move, not proper procedure.”

Cheng replies, “The government isn’t hiding that we’re developing the case as new evidence emerges. Ms. Albright’s sworn statement is consistent with our current charges. The alleged threat goes directly to Mr. Lloyd’s conduct as a means of silencing perceived threats to his authority.”

Judge Benton pinches the bridge of her nose, then exhales.

“I’ll allow it, provisionally,” she says finally. “But this court is not in the business of entertaining weak theatrics. Ms. Albright’s testimony will continue for the limited purpose of evaluating a potential pattern relevant to the intimidation charge. Nothing more.”

Christina sits, her eyes still on Cheng.

The judge levels a final warning. “And let’s be clear, Mr. Cheng: you’ve already spent the court’s patience on yesterday’s autopsy detour. If this witness doesn't deliver on relevance, the court will not hesitate to strike it from the record and revisit your conduct.”

Cheng nods, trying not to smile.

“Ms. Albright, do you know a man named Kyle Donahue, also known as Locke?”

She nods, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Yes. We were friends.”

Cheng picks up a stapled packet from the prosecution’s table and walks it toward the bench.

“Your Honor, the government moves to admit Exhibit 14—phone records obtained via subpoena from Hart Telecommunications. These logs reflect regular contact between Ms. Albright and Mr. Donahue in the weeks leading up to his disappearance. We offer this to establish corroboration and context for her testimony.”

Judge Benton eyes the papers.

Christina rises again, unflinching. “Objection, Your Honor. Foundation. Mr. Cheng hasn’t laid any groundwork to authenticate this document or demonstrate its relevance.”

Cheng doesn’t skip a beat. “We will have the custodian of records testify if needed, but for purposes of this preliminary hearing, the logs are self-authenticating under FRE 902(11). They’re offered to support the witness’s statement and show sustained communication, relevant to motive and connection. ”

Judge Benton frowns, then nods. “Noted. Exhibit 14 is admitted provisionally, pending full authentication at trial.”

Cheng turns back to the witness. “Ms. Albright, during these calls with Mr. Donahue, did he ever express concern regarding the defendant, Mr. Lloyd?”

Christina is already halfway out of her seat. “Objection, hearsay. She can’t testify to what someone else said.”

Cheng answers quickly, “Your Honor, the statement is not being offered for the truth of the matter asserted, but to explain Ms. Albright’s subsequent actions, why she felt threatened, and why she left. It’s directly relevant to her state of mind.”

Judge Benton considers, then says coolly, “Proceed carefully, Mr. Cheng. I’ll allow it for state of mind only.”

Cheng nods again, pacing slightly as he softens his tone for the jury of one.

“What, if anything, did Mr. Donahue say that concerned you?”

Serena pauses, milking it.

“He said Drake—Mr. Lloyd—was watching me. That I should stay away from the clubhouse, that I was a loose end.”

Her voice trembles just enough. “He said that if I pushed too far, I’d disappear like others had.”

Across the gallery, Skye’s whisper is almost a hiss. “Lying bitch.”

Christina, without turning, scribbles something in her notes, gearing up for her turn.