How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Russell

The street was illuminated with red and blue colours on this dark autumn night. Police and paramedics filled the road, their breaths visible from the chilly night. Russell sat in the police car shivering. The officer thanked the paramedic and stayed by the vehicle, hoping that this man would not vomit or pass out in his car. He felt helpless while Russell cried into his hands. He too wondered how this could have happened. This part of town was well respected, and crime was at a low in this area. This was no accident. Someone deliberately did this.

Ten minutes later, Russell had regained his composure. The sedative had taken effect and he felt much calmer. It was time to find out what happened?
'What happened?' asked Russell, talking to the fire chief.
The chief was older than his team. Grey hair was visible beneath his hat, and his face was worn from years in service. He was a man of experience and when he spoke his voice conveyed an air of authority. This was someone used to issuing commands and when he did others obeyed.
'It's too early to tell. But I'll tell you one thing. This was no accident. We found traces of kerosine on the scene. I'll bet it was everywhere. Did you keep cans in the garage?'
'Kerosine?' questioned Russell looking puzzled.
'You know. Like petrol. It was everywhere.'
'What! I had nothing like that.'
'Well whoever it did this brought it with them. Nobody stood a chance.'
Russell could feel his anger rising. Someone poured petrol all over his house. Why? Why would they do this?'
'Who did this?' he pleaded.
'Not for me to say. I'll leave that to the boys in blue.'
The chief nodded and politely left, leaving Russell alone with his thoughts and fuming with rage. Someone had killed his beautiful wife and he would find them. When he did, he swore he would rip their head off and stuff it down their neck. But who? He had no answers and sighed in frustration. He needed to get out of here and think. Just being here made him feel sick and Russell got back into his Mercedes and started the engine. He had to think.

There was suddenly a knock on the windscreen. Russell jumped at the appearance of the young officer. His hair was being blown by the windy autumn night and the condensation from his breath misted up the driver's window. Russell slid the window down.
'I'm sorry sir,' he said politely. 'We need you to come down to the station.'
'Why?' asked Russell.
'We will need a statement and you will need to identify the body.'
'No! No!' said Russell shaking his head.
'Pardon me, Sir?'
'I can't. I'm sorry. I can't'
The officer leant down and peered through the window. 'I appreciate this is difficult for you. We will need a statement to eliminate you as a suspect and formally identify the body. If you can't do that, could someone else do it?'
Russell did not know what to say. He felt confused and distressed. In his heart he knew he had to say goodbye to Debbie, no matter how distressing. It would be awful, but it was something he had to do. He looked at the officer, his eyes misty with tears and nodded.
'Ok. Lead the way.'
'Good. Before we go, do you keep any paperwork in the car? Driving license, insurance. Anything like that.'
Russell looked confused. He screwed his face up and felt the chilly air pouring into the car. The officer noticed the expression. 'It will help speed up the process. That's all.'
'The back. I think it's in the back,' said Russell. He turned the engine off and opened the door. The officer stepped back, allowing Russell to exit the vehicle.

Russell's life had changed tonight. Losing his wife would naturally leave a wound. He would forever be saddened by her sudden death. Russell's life was about to get worse. The moment he unclicked the latch and opened the boot or trunk, it would change again. His expression was utter shock when he investigated the shadowy void of the car's rear compartment. The officer moved closer and in that instant Russell went from innocent husband to number one suspect.
Five red jerry cans were neatly stacked together. Russell reached out to touch one, unsure by what he was seeing.
The officer promptly went into action and stepped between Russell and the car. 'Step back, Sir,' he said, his tone sterner and more authoritative.
'What?' asked Russell, confused by the situation.
'I said step back, and hands behind your back.'
'What's going on?'
The officer was losing patience. He quickly pulled out a set of handcuffs, and manhandled Russell's wrists.
'What are you doing?' complained Russell.
'The cans, Sir! Do you smell that?' It was rhetorical. 'Petrol. You're going to tell me they are not yours.'
'But. But.' Russell was lost for words. 'There not mine. There not...'
'Save it,' said the officer. He yanked Russell's wrist and pulled him toward the police vehicle.
'Officer. What is happening?'
'You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used in a court of law. Do you understand?'
'What? What's going on?' Russell was getting angry. Arrested. What had he done? His wife was dead and now he was being arrested.
'Do you understand?' asked the officer again.
'No!' screamed Russell. 'I do not understand.'
The officer sighed. 'The cans sir. The smell of petrol. Your house. Burnt to a crisp. Ring any bells?'
'What! You think I did this. Those cans aren't mine. I've never seen them before.' Russell was losing control. He voice was getting louder and louder. 'You can't do this. Stop! You can't do this.'

The officer could and he did. He lowered Russell into the police car, ignoring his protests, and sped off to the police station. Russell was under arrest and would spend the night in jail.

Not bad. Pinning it on Russell. Five canisters that I put in his car earlier. What has Russell ever done to me? Don't feel sorry for him. He betrayed his best friend. I'm not going to kill him, not yet. I just want him to suffer.