Kentucky Fried Yankee Lawyer Ch. 03

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Gwen, schemes, and another speed trap.
6.7k words
4.46
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3

Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/19/2022
Created 04/11/2011
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Pete Finnegan wasn't the only reluctant person employed at the McCracken County courts building. Twenty-nine year old Gwendolyn Garst had grown up in the area but thought she'd escaped for good when she went off to Lexington to attend the University of Kentucky a decade earlier.

Gwen had thought long and hard about applying to law school, but her finances and grades were both obstacles. She'd eventually earned her paralegal degree and worked for several attorneys across eastern Kentucky. She was also thinking about trying to get her real estate license until the economy hit the skids back in '08.

She would have likely been content climbing the ladder the best she could in the state capital until her mother took ill with cancer around Christmas of '09. Instead of having to make that dreaded cross-state drive several times a week, and without any real roots holding her down, Gwen decided to move back to Paducah to help her mom through such a difficult time.

Gwen's father had pretty much been out of the picture since she was eight. Having moved to Texas with the woman he'd left her mother for, Gwen had only seen him twice over the past 20 years. Luckily, her maternal grandparents had filled the void, but even that blessing took a substantial hit when she was 12 and her grandfather Ernie went to jail on money laundering charges, then died of a heart attack soon after.

Seeing how her mom had been there for her grandma through that entire tragic ordeal, there was no way in the world Gwen wasn't going to be there for her own mother as she struggled to beat her disease.

Thankfully, through the chemo and various other treatments, the cancer was in re-mission, but given the twists and turns her life had taken, Gwen lived in constant fear that it, or some other horrible malady, could arise at any moment.

She'd taken a job as a paralegal with a lawyer in Paducah. Considering Gwen's resume, she was probably overqualified to work for a guy like Melvin Mack, but he was more than happy to take her on with the dearth of hirable candidates in the area.

Mack was a graying and good natured man in his late 50's who went about his job with somewhat of a "Matlock' shtick. Unfortunately, as with most of the defense lawyers (paid or appointed) who've applied their trade in the McCracken County court system over the previous three decades, his record of success going against the prosecutorial machine led by Cyrus Ridgeway was pretty low.

Gwen's social prospects were equally as dismal. Her tastes and expectations in men had evolved quite a bit since she moved to Lexington years ago, so when she moved back home, there just weren't a lot of guys that tickled her fancy. The handful of men that did seem like a good catch in her age bracket were either married, too uncouth, or came across as utter cads.

Being an attractive single woman wasn't the easiest thing for someone like Gwen working in an environment filled with so much testosterone and ego. A cliché snapshot of what she dealt with on a regular basis could be taken one late Autumn afternoon when she stopped by the courthouse to file a handful of motions before the end of business that day.

It started when an outright proposition from one of the lawyers her employer had a case against, then she was approached and aggressively chatted up by one of the brazen young security guards roaming the halls. That was followed by being ogled by several of the inmates who'd been led over to the courthouse that day from the jail for various hearings (a direct result of not being receptive to the come-ons of said security guard).

The final, and ultimate, indignity however came when she passed the county's lead prosecutor, Cyrus Ridgeway, in the hall. Even though he didn't say a word to her, Gwen felt her skin burn as he openly sized her up. There was a history between the two, one that Gwen had suffered nearly every day of her life since the age of 12.

One that Ridgeway had long forgotten.

He simply saw the pretty blonde in the tailored business suit, with the determined and focused walk, as visual candy (and perhaps a potential conquest) for his Viagra fueled, 61 year old, libido.

Given all that, the last thing Gwen would have likely been open to was a relative stranger that she'd only seen in passing coming up to her out of the blue and asking for a date. Always one for impeccable timing, that's exactly what a young lawyer from the public defender's office did as Gwendolyn Garst was trying to make her way out of the courthouse that late afternoon.

Gwen's first inclination was to bite Pete Finnegan's head off. His shy, and certainly out of place, New England accent rattling around her head, she was able to settle herself down enough to carry on a somewhat cordial conversation.

In the end, Pete actually had a couple of things going for him. Number one, he was intelligent and well spoken enough to keep a back and forth flowing about a myriad of different subjects without sounding as condescending as many of the lawyers she dealt with did. He also talked to her like as an equal, which was something Gwen rarely encountered at work.

The fact that Pete was also attractive, had all his teeth and had some experience in the world outside of McCracken County played into his favor as well since Gwen rarely encountered all that in her local dating pool.

She gave him her number and they went out to dinner the following Saturday night.

Even though Pete had taken notice of Gwendolyn on more than one occasion while strolling the halls of the courts building, if it wasn't for Leroy Cardwell planting a seed during their late night chat in the older man's driveway a few weeks earlier, Pete would have probably never taken the ultimate initiative to ask her out. Like a hound dog being given a scent to follow however, while Leroy didn't provide Pete with all the background, he told the young man enough to make him realize that having someone like Gwen Garst in his life could prove invaluable given the circumstances.

__________________

It was more than a full month since Pete and Gwen's first date when the two found themselves cruising through some of McCracken County's back roads on a late December Friday night. Apart from the early Winter chill, the two enjoyed the peace and quiet of the occasional drive out to the country as they shared stories from their diverse backgrounds.

Keeping a watchful eye out for the sheriff department's special speed traps each time he ventured out of the city limits, Pete's mind was still fresh with what happened between Rhonda and Deputy Wurley weeks earlier.

The couple had consummated their relationship after their third date, and were still quite enamored with each other to say the least. Matching healthy, young and underserved libidos aside, Pete and Gwen had also found a great deal in common outside the bedroom as well.

Driving down the same road he'd been with Rhonda that fateful night weeks ago, this time with Gwen sitting by his side, Pete approached the same Mill Road intersection the speed trap had been set up before. He'd been by that turnoff several times since that night and no one had been there. This time however, he caught the faint reflection of a parked police cruiser tucked behind a thicket.

Making sure he was going far enough over the speed limit to garner some attention, Pete looked in his rearview and felt his stomach roll when the shadowy outline of the police car pulled out from its hiding place. His knuckles tightening on the steering wheel when he noticed the cop hadn't switched on his headlights yet as he followed in stealthy pursuit, Pete meandered along for 30 seconds or so before gunning the gas.

When he saw the darkness behind him fill with vivid and spinning blue light, Pete pressed the accelerator to the floor. The chase was on.

Alternating his gaze between the windshield in front of him, the rear view mirror, and Gwen beside him, Pete had driven that stretch of road enough times now to navigate the frequent and winding curves. It took coming to a straightaway for him to get a relative idea how quickly the deputy, with a V-8 in his cruiser, was closing in.

Keeping a mental note of the landmarks that whizzed by, Pete's best guess was he had about a half mile left until he reached his desired destination. Good thing, considering when he looked up the following time, the police car was within a hundred yards.

Sensing the anxiety welling from Gwen's pores as the shrill vibration of the siren screeched in her ears, there was quite a pull for Pete to reach over and pat her reassuringly. Sadly, he didn't dare take both hands off the wheel as he approached the same turn-off to the old Willoughby property he had sworn he'd never set foot on again.

Just before slowing to make the left turn and give himself up however, Pete did sneak his hand down to the cell phone tucked in his pants pocket just to make sure it was still there.

The silence in the car was palpable until the gravel began to crunch under Pete's tires once he made the left into that Godforsaken driveway. Pulling in, and unsettling wave of nausea ripped through Pete's gut as he laid eyes on the same spot all the shit had hit the fan between him, Rhonda and the cop weeks earlier.

His spine tingling with angst as the police car pulled in behind him, Pete could barely breath as the cab of his Impala filled with the dizzying tornado of flashing blue light.

"Best you're gonna get out of here with is a speeding ticket.......worst case...," Pete told himself, still harboring serious qualms whether this scheme of theirs was going to work.

Like a monster from a nightmare literally walking out of the blinding light and directly into his waking conscience, Pete watched as Deputy Wayne Wurley exited his police cruiser and cast a foreboding shadow all the way up to Pete's driver's side door.

Having already put the car in park, Pete partially rolled down the window before switching the ignition off. Stealing one last look over to Gwen, Pete was buoyed in his moment of weakness by the steely and grim determination in the young woman's icy blue stare.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you again 'round these parts, Finnegan," the familiar, and bile inducing, strains of the deputy's voice filled the calm and quiet surrounding them.

Keeping his gaze trained forward, not wanting to so much as make eye contact with the lawman now towering above him, Pete rolled his tongue around the backside of his teeth before sighing, "Guess you got me again".

Wurley's attention to Pete's moving violations quickly faded when he shined the beam of his flashlight inside the cab of the car.

"Big improvement over the last time you were out here," Wurley nearly chuckled as he sized up the pretty blonde sitting beside him.

"I know you," he continued as if Pete wasn't even there. "You're Delbert Grady's granddaughter."

"Yes..yes I am," Gwen replied without a wisp of emotion, offering to hand the deputy her identification before he dismissively waved her off.

"Whatcha doin' out this way...I know where you live and its back in town. You know nothin' good every happens after dark out here," Wurley jabbed with a cruel, inside joke tone.

"Yeah..I've heard," Pete nodded, the chill of the air filtering through the window not even registering as his blood began to boil.

"And with this pretty lady there beside you..you have to know how things can spin out of control, Finnegan," the deputy continued to chastise.

"I've seen you around the courthouse a few times," Wurley quickly turned his attention back to Gwen.

"You're working for that old fart, Mack, aren't you," she heard Wurley say, sensing he knew far more about her than he was letting on.

"Yes," she replied, without even turning to look at him.

Pete thought about asking if the deputy was going to write him a ticket, but remembering the snide answer he got last time, not to mention the fact that Wurley's focus was seared on Gwen, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

"You've been around these parts your whole life...you ought to tell Mr. Finnegan what can happen out here in the middle of nowhere at night," the cop grinned through the driver's side window into Gwen's reproachful eyes.

"We'll be OK," she offered dryly.

"I'm sure you will," Wurley patted his hands down on the door before pushing himself away, making the young couple think for just a brief instant he was going to leave them be.

Just as he disappeared out of Pete's peripheral vision however, he along with Gwen both jumped in their seats when the driver's side brake light met its demise at the blunt hand of the same nightstick Wurley had used to violate Rhonda Stone. Before either could tap their chest to settle their suddenly pounding hearts, Wurley smashed the one on the other side.

The stakes obviously raised now, Pete cussed himself for ever agreeing to this hare-brained scheme. Reaching instinctively over to try and calm Gwen, Pete was startled seeing her aura of resoluteness.

Instead of immediately retracing his steps back to Pete's side of the car, Wurley walked over to the passenger side, slowing noticeably to glare in at Gwen for a few seconds before striding around the front end and completing the full circuit right back beside Pete.

"You've got a couple of brake lights out," he leaned in and said with an insipid whisper.

"Get out," Pete then heard the deputy command.

Opening the door, doing his best to appear in total control as he stepped from his vehicle, Pete made his way over to the hood. Having taken enough classes in law school to know the proper etiquette in this type of scenario, deep down Pete sensed none of it mattered. There was going to be nothing 'by the book' about the next few minutes.

Flinching when the cop casually pushed his hand down inside his left pants pocket, Pete watched as Wurley removed his cell phone.

"Always knew you wanted to get inside my pants," the young lawyer mouthed before he could stop himself.

He was immediately met with a subtle, but highly effective punch to the kidney for his sarcasm. Holding himself up on the fender to keep from doubling over, Pete bowed his neck and kicked at the dirt below until he was finally able to suck in a full breath.

He was strangely insulted the cop didn't seem to deem it necessary to search the rest of his person for any sort of weapon, but this time Pete kept his thoughts to himself.

"Didn't think you'd have the balls to venture out this way again. Pretty pathetic the way that whole thing went with that Stone woman. Now you go and bring a girl like that out here?" Wurley put his lips up to Pete's ear and hissed. "Wanna see the same thing happen to her?"

"When did this become personal? I'd never even met you before that night," Pete turned and asked.

Even in the dark, Pete could see the look of rancid discontent boiling in the officer's eyes.

"You college fuck-ups come down here trying to build your resume...you don't have any idea how things work. You got all this liberal views about helping these pieces of shit that have been dragging this county down for generations," Wurley spat. "Damn good thing we have a man like Cyrus Ridgeway in the prosecutor's chair!"

"It has something to do with the Constitution," Pete shook his head incredulously, having to remind himself logic was probably also the wrong tact to take in this situation.

"Besides," he added, "One of these days I might be hired to defend you."

While this second dose of pointed sarcasm didn't result in a physical assault, Pete did see Wayne Wurley sort of file the comment away into that special vault inside his brain.

Sadly, the pursuit of justice and cleansing McCracken County of all it's societal ills wasn't exactly the deputy's life mission. Considering he was the one anointed with the badge, it made his sins that much worse. In his ultra clear and focused mind however, intimidation was the only way of dealing with the enemy, and Pete was finding that out the hard way.

As if patiently biding his time, a huge hawkish smile spread across Wayne's face when he saw Gwen get out of the car and start towards him.

"Whoa..just calm down..I'm just askin' your boyfriend a couple of questions. Just go and get back in the car...you two will be out of here before you know it," the deputy scolded, but before the words were even out of his mouth, another more devious thought struck him.

"No," he corrected himself. "Last girl Finnegan had out here had meth on her. If I didn't know any better, the little lawyer boy here might be making some extra money on the side peddlin' the shit. You better come over here and let me make sure you ain't concealing nothin'."

A pained silence engulfed the three as Deputy Wurley's words hung like spoiled meat in the air. Nearly choking on his heart as it lurched upwards into his throat, Pete watched Wayne's eyes swirl with vengeful intent.

"Sorry I gotta do this, Ma'am, but turn around and put your hands on the car," Wurley motioned to Gwen.

Seeing the cop reach for his hand-cuffs, Pete had enough and vehemently voiced his objections.

"You don't have to do that to her...," he started before the deputy interrupted.

"They aren't for her..they're for you," Wurley's voice drilled first into Pete's ears, then like a razor down his spine.

More than any other moment in his life, Pete felt an overwhelming urge to ball up his fist and let out all that fear, anger and frustration right on the cop's chin when Wurley started towards him. For a multitude of reasons, thankfully the last shreds of Pete's rational thought kept his primal urges at bay.

Tensing when Wurley clamped the first bracelet around his left wrist, Pete prepared for the officer to reach for his right, but before he even realized what had happened, the deputy had reached inside the rolled down window, and with one well practiced swipe, secured the opposite end of the handcuffs around the Impala's steering wheel.

Pete's eyes became the size of two glassy golf balls when he caught Wurley's gaze drifting to the keys hanging in the currently lifeless ignition. The stark reality hit Pete that with one simple turn of a key, and a shift of the transmission into gear on that steep grade, that something very bad could happen.

The blood was rushing so violently in his head, Pete couldn't make out the content of Gwen's protests even though the vibration of her voice was causing his teeth to rattle. Instinctively pulling his arm to try and turn as Wurley slowly started walking away, Pete was instantly jerked backwards the way a dog would forgetting his was on a leash.

"Don't fight this Finnegan..you don't need to see this. It'll all be over with before you know it," the deputy said in a hushed, almost fatherly tone before easing over to Gwen, leaving Pete with his back turned towards them both.

Desperately wanting to channel every bit of energy inside his body into a blood curdling scream to perhaps bring help, Pete reminded himself there was no one around for miles out on that desolate stretch of highway. Instead he was forced to stand there in detained silence, having to hear every subtle and horrible sound coming from behind him.

As much as he hated to admit it, Pete knew having his back turned to what was happening on the hood of his car was probably for the best. His intestines seizing each time Gwen groaned the words 'no' or 'stop', Pete fought the vivid pictures in his head of the deputy's hands roaming with impunity over every inch of her body. Pete could even feel the car rock each time Gwen's hands pressed down on the fender as the man behind her continued his thorough 'search'.

A sour grimace spreading across Pete's face, he couldn't help but jerk at the cuff locked around the steering wheel when an especially shrill shriek bleed from Gwen's throat. Casting his gaze wearily towards the woodline, Pete tried grasping his free hand out behind him, but Wurley had positioned himself with seeming strategic precision just out of the lawyer's reach.

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