The policeman and I stared at each other for a long, quiet minute trying to figure out where the blood went. A decapitated man should have bled profusely. There should have been rivulets of blood running down the road. There wasn't. Not a drop. And neither of us could explain it.
Eventually he blinked, waved his arms, and began issuing orders to clear up the scene. The body was to be moved to the house of the local doctor, the injured helped to their homes, and I was barred from seeing Ella. The bobby told me in no uncertain terms the accused murderer was not allowed any visitors.
Lucky the cell had a window, but I had no answers for her. I shook my head and mouthed that the doctor would investigate further. That one word, investigate, caused us both a few headaches as Ella tried to lip read from a strange angle and I became frustrated that my throat wouldn't make the noises.
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