"Missus Reid! Missus Reid!" A familiar male voice called out.

When I looked I saw Mister Drake running towards me, hat in hand. Following his footsteps was the Yankee Homer Jackson.

"Mister Drake, Mister Jackson," I said to them. "Can I help you?"

Mister Jackson spoke first, "Something's happened!"

"What happened?" I asked, fearing something terrible had happened to Edmund.

Mister Drake held up his hand, "The higher ups sent your husband home early. We were following a case—and I don't mean to frighten you—but the criminal we were chasing tried to trap us inside an abandoned house." He sighed, "He tried to set it on fire but we were able to escape through an open window. Something must have set Mister Reid off as I've never known him to be near hysterics."

"He kept babbling about some...Harbor fellow? Is that name familiar to you?" Mister Jackson interrupted.

I shook my head; "Edmund doesn't discuss his cases with me."

"This Harbor must've done something terrible to him."

I could feel the blood drain from my face, "Is Edmund home?"

Mister Drake quickly nodded, "Come, we'll escort you home!"

Along the way the two of them did their best to give me the best cleaned up version of events that they could.

This Harbor fellow was suspected of several cases of arson as well as the deaths of at least four families. Mister Drake said something about Harbor carrying a weapon with him when they found him.

Mister Drake opened the door for me to enter and followed a few steps behind me.

"If you need anything you'll tell us, right?" Mister Jackson asked.

I nodded, "Yes, of course. Thank you."

With a tip of their hats the two men departed leaving me to find my husband.

To my surprise he was in the least expected of places. I found him lying on his side, in the near fetal position, on Abigail's small bed.

After her death we had given many of her belongings to charity but we kept her bed and her favorite doll. The wallpaper Edmund put up when Abigail was born was yellowing and fading.

We had originally thought we were expecting a boy so Edmund happily applied pink wallpaper all around the room. It was a task that annoyed him to no end and took him forever and a day to apply. At the end he was sweaty, dirty, but proud.

When our child came out a girl Edmund insisted he was not going to tear down the pink wallpaper and reapply blue wallpaper. Our daughter would just have to get used to having pink wallpaper.

"Edmund..." I said softly.

"I thought I had gotten past it," Edmund said so quietly I had to strain to hear him. "I thought I had accepted it."

Creeping into the room I moved towards my husband and sat on the corner of the bed his large body was not occupying.

"I tried Emily, I truly tried to save her..." A sob broke from his throat.

Leaning towards him I could see him clutching Abigail's favorite doll to his chest. The cloth doll with the china head he had struggled so hard to make her. I had taught Edmund the basics of sewing and despite the many pinpricks his fingers endured he was able to make a small doll that she loved.

"Edmund, tell me what happened," I whispered.

Edmund's trembling hand reached out to set the doll onto the floor. He gradually began to sit up until he collapsed against me. His body shook with the unhappy cries that he released as his tears stained my skirt.

I began to stroke his dark hair as he wept and talked into my lap and my mind flashed back to that dark day...

Lying on his side Edmund gritted his teeth against the shock of pain that ripped through his body. The bright light that shone down on him did him no favors to escape the pain.

"I'm sorry inspector, but I have to..." the doctor said.

Running past the nurse Emily forced her way into the small room where Edmund was being treated.

"I'm sorry, I tried to stop—"

"It's alright nurse," the doctor said. "You may leave us."

Emily gasped at the sight of the hideous shade of red that covered parts of Edmund's neck, shoulder, and back.

"What happened?" Emily demanded.

"He's been badly burned. Provided the burns do not become infected your husband should recover," the doctor explained.

"I can hear you!" Edmund hissed through gritted teeth.

"What can I do?" Emily asked to try to distract the argument she feared was about to brew.

"You can stay with him," the doctor said.

Finding the nearest spot near her husband.

At first Edmund buried his face in the folds of Emily's skirt to keep her from seeing the agony he was in.

The doctor tore away another strip of damaged flesh making Edmund cry out.

Quickly mumbling an apology the doctor went back to work.

Emily felt herself moving closer to her husband and letting him rest his head in her lap. She gently stroked his hair as he held onto the folds of her skirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. Tears of pain escaped his eyes and stained the fabric of her skirt...

"If I h-had known..." Edmund sobbed.

"Had known what?" I gently pressed.

"If I ha-ad known Harbor was there—"

"Today?"

"No, when Abigail was killed! He stalked our family, knowing where we would be and he waited until we were vulnerable to strike. He's the one who killed our daughter to hurt me! If I hadn't agreed to let Abigail stay with the Smith's—"

I closed my eyes as once and for all the terrible secret had been revealed.

"Edmund, something about it doesn't feel right!" Emily protested.

"Let the girl have some fun, Emily!" Edmund retorted. "What is one night with the Smith family going to hurt? You know how Abigail has wanted to visit them."

"Some other night then! I have a terrible feeling about tonight and if Abigail goes there we may not see her again!"

"Nothing is going to happen to her! You need to stop being so frightened of the Axe Killer and The Ripper! We're right on the heels of catching them!"

"I know you didn't want Abigail to go but—Oh God! I'm so sorry Emily!"

My heart wrenched from both knowing the terrible secret and seeing how much Edmund blamed himself for her death. His personal hell was far worse than anything I, or anyone else, could put him through.

"It's all my fault!" Edmund cried.

"Edmund—"

"For-forgive me Emily!"

I struggled to gently pull Edmund into a sitting position. Cupping his tear stained face in my hands I looked into his blue eyes.

"It's not your fault," I told him. "You didn't know."

Edmund blinked once, twice, as if he had expected me to lash out physically at him. I felt his hand reach up and take mine. He lowered it until it came to the burned skin on his neck and chest.

"What happened that night?" I asked him.

"After Harbor killed the Smiths and Abigail he set the house on fire. I didn't know they were dead and I ran into the house trying to find them. I don't remember anything between running into that house and being at the hospital. I must have blocked it out."

I slowly managed to nod as the tears also filled my eyes.

I could have hated my husband, cursed him for what had happened and what he had done and yet I couldn't.

I needed to know more of what happened.

"Why did he kill them?" I asked.

"To hurt me in the worst way. Years ago, before Abigail was born, I had captured him and his brother, Gerald, for robbery and murder. Gerald was hung but Harbor somehow escaped from prison. On the gallows Gerald vowed Harbor would have revenge and that he, personally, would find a way to drag me to hell with him. They both succeeded."

"You can take yourself out of that hell Edmund."

"How?"

"Talk to the pastor, talk to me, don't shut yourself away from the world."

Tears trickled down Edmund's cheeks, "I'm sorry Emily."

"It's not your fault Edmund. The blame lies solely at the hands of those two horrible men. This has torn us apart for long enough but no more."