When Walter came home from work, he was greeted by the sharp cries of his baby boy. The sound pierced the air as he stepped in from the garage. His wife, Abby, sat in the kitchen, her face etched with exhaustion and distress. He could tell that Logan’s relentless crying had taken its toll.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Walter murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “How long has he been crying like this?”
“I’ve done everything, Walter!” Abby cried, breaking into sobs. “He’s been fed, changed, bathed, and burped. I even checked his temperature. I just… I don’t know what else to do!”
Since welcoming their baby a month ago, everything had changed. And for Walter, the sound of Logan’s cries was enough to unravel him.
“Come on,” he said gently. “We’ll figure it out together.”
He led her to the nursery.
Walter approached the crib with a determined smile, but what he found inside made his blood run cold. There was no baby—just a note and a dictaphone playing a recording of Logan’s cries. He quickly hit the stop button, and silence fell.
“What is it?” Abby asked, her voice panicked. But Walter was frozen, staring at the note in disbelief. Abby snatched it from his hand and read aloud:
“I warned you you’d regret being rude to me.
If you ever want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the storage lockers by the pier.
If you contact the police, you’ll never see him again.”
Abby gasped. “Who would do this? Was I rude to someone? Were you?”
A sudden memory flashed through Walter’s mind: the janitor at the maternity hospital. The man had brought a sweet teddy bear-shaped planter for Abby during her stay, but tripped over Walter’s foot and broke it. Furious, Walter had lashed out at him, and the janitor had warned, “You’ll regret it.”
“I think I know who it was,” Walter said, still stunned. “It has to be that janitor. We need to go to the police.”
“No!” Abby shouted. “The note said not to. What if we never see Logan again?”
“Think logically. He’s a janitor. How would he know we went to the police? We know where he works. If we report him, they could arrest him at the hospital and get Logan back.”
Reluctantly, Abby agreed.
As they parked outside the station, Walter’s phone buzzed.
“This is your one and only warning. Step inside that station and your kid goes into the bay. Drop the cash at the spot below.”
Abby gasped, reading over his shoulder. Walter’s eyes scanned the area, but the crowd was too dense. The only option now seemed to be paying the ransom.
He turned the car toward the bank. But soon, Abby became violently ill. She threw up once, then again. Walter made the call to take her home.
“I hate doing this, but you need rest,” he said. Abby didn’t argue.
“Walter…” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “Does that kidnapper even know how to care for a newborn?”
Walter didn’t respond. His mind was already spiraling with dark thoughts. He imagined Logan alone, scared, crying in some dark room.
He pulled himself together and made it to the bank, then to the storage locker mentioned in the note. After placing the cash inside, he drove a short distance away and parked, watching the lockers from afar.
Eventually, he spotted the janitor. The man opened the locker. Walter sat forward—but a tourist group passed by, blocking his view. By the time they cleared, the janitor was gone.
Walter scanned the crowd, heart pounding. Then—there! The janitor, wearing a bright, hippie-style shirt, was crossing the road with the bag. Walter leapt from his car and followed.
The janitor led him past cafes and museums and into a bus station. He stopped and placed the bag into another locker.
Walter charged forward, slamming the man against the lockers.
“Where’s my son?” he growled. “I did everything you asked. Give him back!”
“Whoa! Look, I was paid a hundred bucks to drop off this bag. That’s it!” the man stammered. “I don’t know anything about your son!”
Walter narrowed his eyes. “Liar!”
“I swear!” the janitor pleaded. “A guy approached me in a parking lot and offered the job. I didn’t see his face. I have kids too, I’d never—”
There was something genuine in his eyes. Walter slowly let him go and opened the locker. It was empty. Someone had cut a hole in the back.
He raced around to the rear. A thin metal plate, loosely held by screws, covered the hole. The money was gone.
Walter’s stomach dropped. He had failed. And worse, he had to go home to Abby with the news.
But when he returned, Abby was gone.
At first, he panicked—kidnapped too? But something didn’t add up. All her things were missing, even her hand lotion. That’s when it hit him: Abby took Logan. She orchestrated everything. Maybe she had help.
A flicker of comfort returned—Walter had used fake money. He still had a chance to find Logan.
He drove to the maternity hospital and sought out a familiar doctor.
“I need your help,” Walter said. “And I’m willing to pay—”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. But when Walter explained and flashed some cash, the man relented.
Minutes later, in a quiet corner, the doctor called Abby.
“Mrs. Taylor? This is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital. I’m calling about a serious condition we discovered during your son’s newborn screening. He needs treatment immediately.”
Walter heard Abby’s frantic response through the phone.
“Unfortunately, I can’t discuss the details over the phone,” the doctor continued. “But his life may be at risk. Please bring him in today.”
The doctor hung up and turned to Walter with a grin. “She’s coming.”
Later that day, Walter stood in the hospital lobby, tears in his eyes, as his brother James entered—carrying Logan.
Abby was beside him, speaking to the receptionist. Moments later, FBI agents surrounded them.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” one agent announced.
Abby shrieked and moved in front of Logan.
“He’s sick!” she cried. “He needs a doctor!”
“No, he’s not,” Walter said, stepping forward. “He’s fine. You lied.”
Abby’s eyes met his, full of fury. She lunged at him, but police tackled her to the ground. Both she and James were cuffed and arrested.
Walter gathered Logan into his arms, overcome with emotion.
But before Abby was taken away, she screamed, “You think you’ve won? Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember? But your brother could!”
Walter froze. James wouldn’t meet his eyes. But Walter didn’t care.
“Then I’ll adopt him,” Walter replied firmly. “I’ll raise him. I’ll love him. While you both rot in prison.”
He turned and walked away with Logan, his heart full and his grip unshakable.