Walter stepped into the house, greeted not by the usual warmth of home but by a piercing cry that sent shivers down his spine. Logan’s wails filled every corner, bouncing off the walls like a siren, a desperate call for help.
Abby sat at the kitchen table, her shoulders slumped, her face pale with exhaustion. Her hands trembled as she ran them through her hair. The sight of her like this made Walter’s heart tighten.
“Oh, honey,” he murmured, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. “How long has he been crying like this?”
Abby turned in his embrace, her eyes red and glassy. “I’ve tried everything, Walter!” Her voice cracked as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “He’s been fed, changed, bathed, burped—I even checked his temperature. I don’t know what else to do! He just won’t stop crying!”
Walter rubbed her back soothingly. Becoming parents had been the most wonderful and challenging experience of their lives. But nothing unsettled him more than the sound of Logan’s cries.
“Let’s go check on him together,” he said softly, leading Abby toward the nursery.
As they stepped inside, Logan’s screams were relentless. Walter walked up to the crib, ready to soothe his son. But as he peered inside, his blood ran cold.
The crib was empty.
Instead, a small black dictaphone lay there, playing a recording of Logan’s cries. Next to it, a folded note.
Walter’s hands shook as he pressed the stop button. Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket.
“What did you do?” Abby’s panicked voice came from behind him.
Walter didn’t answer. His fingers clenched around the note as he unfolded it. His eyes scanned the words, and everything inside him froze.
I warned you that you’d regret being rude to me.
If you want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the luggage storage lockers near the pier.
If you go to the police, you’ll never see him again.
Abby gasped, snatching the note from his hands. Her face twisted in horror as she read it. “Oh my God! What does this mean? Who would kidnap Logan? Was I rude to someone? Were you?”
Walter’s mind reeled. And then it hit him.
The janitor. The one from the maternity hospital. The one he had insulted.
It had been a stupid moment of frustration. He had been bringing Abby a small bear-shaped plant pot while she was recovering in the hospital. But he had tripped over a mop left carelessly in the hallway, and the pot had shattered.
Angry, he had lashed out at the janitor, calling him useless, irresponsible. The man had glared at him with cold, dark eyes and muttered, “You’ll regret it.”
And now, here they were.
“We have to call the police,” Walter said firmly, looking at Abby. “I know who it is. I think it’s the janitor from the hospital.”
“What? The note says not to!” Abby cried. “Walter, we can’t risk it. We should just pay the ransom.”
Walter shook his head. “We don’t know if he’ll actually give Logan back if we pay. But if we go to the police, they can track him down. They might even be able to arrest him at the hospital.”
Abby hesitated but then nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
They rushed to the car, but just as Walter pulled into the police station’s parking lot, his phone buzzed.
This is your first and last warning. If you enter that police station, your kid’s going into the bay. Get the money to the location mentioned below.
Abby clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. Walter’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he scanned the street, searching for any sign of the kidnapper.
“We have no choice,” he muttered. “We have to pay.”
But as he turned the car toward the bank, Abby groaned and clutched her stomach. She was pale, sweating. Then she covered her mouth and wretched.
Walter swerved the car to the side of the road. “You need to rest,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”
Abby was too weak to argue. “Fine,” she whispered. But then, fresh tears filled her eyes. “Walter… does that man even know how to care for a newborn?”
Walter clenched his jaw, his mind painting the darkest images—Logan alone, scared, hungry.
He couldn’t waste another second.
At the bank, Walter withdrew the money. Then he drove straight to the pier, following the kidnapper’s instructions. He placed the bag inside the locker and stepped back, watching from a distance.
Minutes passed. Then he saw him.
The janitor.
Walter tensed as the man approached the locker, retrieved the bag, and walked away. Walter followed, his heart hammering. The janitor weaved through the crowd, moving toward another set of lockers at a bus station.
Walter saw his moment.
He lunged.
Shoving the janitor against the lockers, Walter pinned him with his forearm. “Where is my son?” he demanded. “I gave you the money—now give him back!”
The janitor’s eyes widened in confusion. “What? I don’t know anything about your son! Some guy paid me a hundred bucks to move the package!”
Walter’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“I swear!” The janitor’s voice shook. “I never saw his face—he paid me in cash. I have two kids of my own; I’d never hurt a child.”
Walter’s breath came in sharp gasps. If the janitor wasn’t behind this, then who—
His phone rang.
Abby.
Walter’s fingers turned ice-cold as he answered. “Where’s Logan?”
Abby’s voice was sharp with anger. “You tight-fisted jerk! That money was fake! Logan is sick, and I can’t take him to the hospital because of you! Where’s the real money, Walter?”
Walter’s world tilted. “You?” he whispered. “You kidnapped him?”
Silence. Then a broken sob. “I had no choice! You wouldn’t have let me take him!”
Walter hung up, his chest burning with fury. He had to outsmart her.
An idea formed.
He rushed to the maternity hospital and found Dr. Jones, a man who would do anything for the right price. With a thick wad of cash, Walter persuaded him to call Abby and tell her Logan had a life-threatening condition that needed immediate treatment.
And it worked.
Minutes later, Abby arrived at the hospital with Logan in her arms—only to be surrounded by FBI agents and police officers.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” an officer called.
Abby screamed as she clutched Logan tighter. “You’ll regret this, Walter!”
Walter stepped forward, his eyes on his son. Logan blinked up at him, his tiny hands reaching out.
Abby’s final words rang through the air. “Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember?”
Walter stiffened. He turned to his brother, James, who stood frozen in guilt.
But none of it mattered.
Walter held Logan close. “I don’t care. I will adopt him if I have to. He’s my son. And I’ll never let him go.”
