Page 92 of Desert Loyalties
Any second now, the FBI’s going to walk through that door. And when they do, it’s completely new faces. Two men in suits. One older, one sharp-eyed and younger, step inside, badges out.
“I’m Agent Wilkins. This is Agent Grant,” Wilkins says, scanning the room with practiced calm.
Before they can continue, Christina steps forward, her expression unreadable. “I’m Mr. Lloyd’s attorney, and I’ll be overseeing this interview. Why don’t we all take a seat?”
We settle onto the sofa. The agents take the chairs opposite us. Ranger and Christina remain standing behind, a wall at our backs.
Grant opens a small notepad, pen already poised. “Mr. Lloyd, when was the last time you saw Prosecutor Cheng?”
Drake shrugs, tension tucked behind a tight voice. “When I was found not guilty.”
Wilkins follows up, steady. “And after that?”
Drake shakes his head. “I didn’t see or hear from him after the trial.”
Wilkins leans forward; tone neutral but probing. “Are you in any way affiliated with the motorcycle group known as the Vikings?”
Drake’s reply is dry. “We used to be partners. That ended when we took different paths, years ago.”
Grant flips to a new page in his notebook. “Do you know of any connection between Henry Cheng and the Vikings?”
Drake doesn’t flinch. “No.”
Wilkins presses, voice dipping lower. “Are you certain?”
Before Drake can answer, Christina cuts in, sharp but professional. “He already said no.”
Wilkins doesn’t look away. “Yesterday, we tracked Mr. Cheng’s vehicle, a government-issued one. It visited the Vikings’ compound late last night. Early this morning, it was driven out into the desert. When local authorities arrived, the car was empty… but a substantial amount of blood was found in the vehicle.”
A beat.
Grant adds, “The volume suggests Mr. Cheng couldn’t have survived the injury. Preliminary tests match his DNA.”
Drake exhales sharply. “What’s that got to do with me?”
Wilkins studies him. “Do the Vikings have any reason to hold a grudge against you? Or want you removed from the picture?”
Drake nods once. “We’re business rivals. And I manage our side’s operations now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted me out of the way.”
Grant glances at his notes again. “Is it possible a Kyle Donahue, also known as Locke, has been seen with the Vikings recently?”
Drake frowns. “Maybe. I have no idea.”
Grant looks up, voice low and deliberate. “We believe Mr. Donahue may have conspired with members of the Vikings to orchestrate your prosecution. Whether Cheng was willing or not, he became involved. And when he failed to convict you, they retaliated.”
Christina speaks, calm but razor-edged. “And again, I’ll ask what my client already did: what does any of this have to do with Mr Lloyd?”
Wilkins doesn’t back down. “Three key pieces of this case, Cheng’s disappearance, the Vikings’ involvement, and the questionable prosecution, all orbit the same point.”
He gestures toward Drake, not quite pointing. “Your client.”
The silence after that lands heavy.
“So,” Wilkins continues, “we need to know what your client knows, and where Henry Cheng’s body might be.”
Drake leans back, arms loose on the back of the sofa. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I spent last night celebrating, with about a hundred people who’ll say the same. Two of them are in this room.”
Before Wilkins can speak again, Christina steps forward, smooth and cutting. “Unless you have a warrant or formal charges, this interview is over.”
