When Walter got home from work, the sound of his baby crying echoed through the house. His wife had tried everything to calm their son, but nothing worked. As Walter opened the crib to check on Logan, he was stunned by what he discovered.
The moment Walter stepped in from the garage, a piercing wail rang out. From the look on Abby’s face, he could tell she was overwhelmed by Logan’s nonstop crying. She sat exhausted in the kitchen.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and murmured, “Oh, honey. How long has he been crying like that?”
“Walt, I’ve tried everything!” Abby sobbed. “We fed him, changed his diaper, gave him a bath, burped him… I even checked his temperature! I don’t know what else to do. He just won’t stop!”
Their world had completely changed since Logan’s birth just a month earlier. And the constant crying was wearing Walter down more than he liked to admit.
“Let’s figure this out together,” Walter said, taking Abby’s hand and leading her to Logan’s room.
He approached the crib with a mix of concern and hope. But what he found inside made his heart drop—there was no baby. Just a note and a small dictaphone. He hit the stop button, and suddenly, the crying ceased.
“What did you do?” Abby’s voice rang out in panic. Walter didn’t respond immediately—he had been so focused on the crib that he hadn’t noticed her entering the room. She snatched the note from his hand and opened it.
The message read:
“I told you being rude to me would come back to haunt you.
Place $200,000 in one of the boxes near the pier if you want to see your baby again.
Call the police, and you’ll never see him again.”
Abby gasped. “Oh my God! What does this mean? Was I rude to someone? Were you? Who would take Logan?”
Walter’s mind flashed back to an incident at the maternity hospital. He remembered a janitor he’d been harsh with. The man had accidentally knocked over a bear-shaped pot Walter brought for Abby, and Walter had cursed at him in rage. The janitor had warned him bitterly, “You’ll regret that.”
Snapping back to the present, Walter said urgently, “We have to call the police. It must be him!”
“What?” Abby cried. “The note says not to! If we call the cops, we may never see Logan again. Maybe we should just pay…”
“But what if that doesn’t work?” Walter reasoned. “Think about it. We know where the janitor works. If the police move quietly, they could arrest him at the hospital and get Logan back without him ever knowing we tipped them off.”
Abby hesitated, then nodded.
They drove to the police station. Just as they were stepping out of the car, Walter’s phone buzzed. A new message had arrived.
“You were warned.
Enter that station, and your kid goes into the bay.
Bring the money to the address below.”
Abby gasped as she read it. Walter scanned the street, trying to spot whoever was watching them, but the crowd was thick. The only option left was to pay.
They headed to the bank, but Abby began to feel worse. She had already thrown up once, and now she looked like she might faint. Walter decided to take her home first.
“This is what’s best for you, honey. Please don’t hate me,” he said as he helped her inside. Abby remained silent, but her eyes welled up.
“Walter… do you think that man knows how to take care of a baby?” she asked tearfully.
Walter didn’t answer. Instead, he imagined Logan crying alone in the dark, helpless and scared.
He collected himself and drove back to the bank. After withdrawing the money, he followed the kidnapper’s instructions and placed it in a locker at the pier.
Walter didn’t see the janitor immediately—there were too many people. But he knew the man would be close, watching. He parked his car nearby and waited.
Soon, he saw the janitor approaching. He opened the locker. But before Walter could react, a group of tourists passed by and blocked his view.
“Move already!” Walter muttered anxiously.
By the time the last tourist had passed, the janitor was gone.
Panic surged through Walter as he scanned the crowd. It should’ve been easy to spot the man—he was wearing a flashy, hippie-style shirt. Then, suddenly, there he was, crossing the street with the money bag.
Relief flooded Walter. He jumped out of the car and followed the janitor, who led him through a maze of shops, restaurants, and parking lots to a second set of lockers.
The janitor placed the money in another locker. Walter sprang into action, slamming the man against the lockers with his elbow.
“Where is my son?” he demanded. “I did everything you asked. Now give Logan back!”
The janitor sputtered, “I was paid $100 to pick up that bag and bring it here! I don’t know anything about your kid!”
“You lying scumbag!”
“I’m not lying! A guy approached me in the parking lot after work. I couldn’t even see his face—it was backlit. I swear, I have kids of my own. I’d never hurt someone’s child.”
Walter looked into the janitor’s eyes and believed him. He let him go and opened the locker. Inside was a false back panel with a slit. Walter rushed around to the rear and found a thin steel plate, loosely fastened with screws, covering the exit.
The realization hit him hard—he had been played.
He didn’t know how to tell Abby. Logan had been their miracle child, born after years of heartbreak. And now he was gone.
Walter returned home and searched every room, but Abby was nowhere to be found. When he went upstairs, he noticed all her belongings were gone—even her hand cream.
Panic turned to confusion. Had Abby been kidnapped too?
He called her repeatedly, but there was no answer. Then the truth began to click. No kidnapper would have taken her belongings too.
She had left willingly.
It was all a setup. Abby had planned the whole thing. She pushed for paying the ransom. She rushed to go home when she got sick. She had taken Logan—and maybe even had a partner.
The only small relief was that the ransom money was fake.
Determined to get his son back, Walter headed to the maternity hospital and found a familiar face—a doctor by the vending machine.
“Please,” Walter said. “I need your help. Call my wife.”
The doctor replied coldly, “I’m not a phone service.”
“I’ll pay. A lot. And I’ll make it worth your while to keep it quiet,” Walter said, showing the doctor his wallet.
The doctor’s expression changed. He agreed and led Walter to a nurse’s station on the second floor.
The hallway was quiet as the doctor made the call.
“Hello, this is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital,” he said. “I’m calling about a serious condition we found during routine tests on your baby. He needs immediate treatment.”
Walter listened from a distance as Abby’s voice cracked with emotion, but he couldn’t make out her words.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give details over the phone,” the doctor continued. “But your son has a rare genetic disorder. He may look fine, but that could change any moment. He’s at high risk for SIDS and other complications. Please bring him in today.”
The call ended, and Dr. Jones gave Walter a thumbs-up.
“She’s coming,” he said, then rubbed his fingers together. “Now it’s your turn.”
Walter handed over the cash and went downstairs to wait.
A while later, his phone rang—and he saw Abby’s name.
“You have the nerve to call me?” Walter snapped. “Where is Logan?”
“You cheap bastard!” Abby shrieked. “That ransom money was fake! Logan needs to see a doctor, but I can’t take him because of you. Where’s the real money?”
Walter froze. “You were the one who took him,” he whispered. “Is he really sick or are you just trying to scam me again?”
“I told you he was sick!” she cried. “Send the money—please! Without it, he could die!”
“I’ll send it,” Walter said, his heart breaking. He transferred the money and waited.
Walter’s eyes filled with tears when his brother James walked into the hospital with Abby. While Abby spoke with the front desk, James cradled Logan.
Suddenly, FBI agents surrounded them—Walter had already alerted the authorities.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” one agent shouted. “Put the child down and raise your hands!”
Abby backed away. “Stay away from us!” she screamed. “My son is sick! He needs help!”
Walter stepped forward. “No, he’s not. Logan is perfectly healthy.”
Abby’s face twisted with rage. She lunged toward Walter, but the officers restrained her. Both she and James were handcuffed.
Walter hugged Logan tightly. But Abby had one last thing to say.
“You think you’ve won?” she spat. “Logan isn’t even your son! Remember? You’re the one who couldn’t get me pregnant! Whatever’s wrong with you clearly doesn’t run in his blood!”
Walter froze. His heart shattered again. He looked at James, who refused to meet his eyes.
Still, none of that mattered. He had Logan in his arms.
“If I have to, I’ll adopt him,” Walter said firmly. “I’ll raise him myself—while you two rot behind bars.”
And with that, he walked away with his son.
