Father Leaves Son in Car at Car Wash, Boy Disappears without a Trace – Story of the Day

Peter leaves his son in the car at the automatic car wash and steps away for a coffee. He doesn't suspect anything going wrong until he returns to the vehicle and finds his son missing. Peter then spots a note in the car's backseat, and as he reads it, he learns his son has been kidnapped.

Peter stepped out of the car just before the washing began and waved at Luke. The little boy pressed his nose against the window, eagerly waiting for the process to start. It was customary for them to visit the car wash every Saturday, and Luke loved staying in the car during the entire process.

Peter knew perfectly well that it was against the rules to let a kid be in the car unaccompanied during the wash process. But despite being an ex-cop, Peter wasn't unfamiliar with bending a few rules. And he would break any rule in the world to see that smile on his little boy's face. A busy father like Peter never got to see it enough.

After he quit the police force, Peter delved into the business world and established a security company, becoming a co-owner. That rarely allowed him to spend time with his son except for these Saturday morning errands.

The rollers rotated at different speeds and scrubbed the car's exterior with soapy brushes. While Luke was fascinated with the car wash, Peter slipped away to meet the service manager, Dave.

"All good?" Dave asked as he fetched two cups of coffee and handed one to Peter.

"Not too shabby, I would say," Peter shrugged. "How's it going for you?"

"Just cleaning my beauties. I'll take care of yours, too," Dave chuckled.

Peter spent around minutes with Dave. As usual, he and Dave were cracking jokes, after which Peter returned to the car, expecting the wash to be over and Luke to be waiting for him.

But as Peter got into the car, he realized his son was not there. Peter turned to look in the backseat, but it was empty, and he spotted a note lying on the backseat.

He looked out the windows, but he didn't spot Luke anywhere. Luke had probably gone to see the cool cars that came to Dave's car wash, Peter thought. He finally reached into the backseat, picked up the note to read it, and a strange sensation crept up his gut:

"Your son is with me. A million dollars…I want it by today's end, or I'll make sure the report on the tax fraud you committed five years ago is made public! Do you wish to end up in jail? I hope not. Be a smart man. Bring the money, get your son, and save your image. You'll get the remaining instructions later. Time is running out."

Peter felt like his lungs would collapse. He could feel curse words spilling out of his tongue. But he didn't want to cause a scene here. There were people nearby.

Peter's heart raced as his gaze was drawn to the note again. He had really been helpless five years ago when his son was diagnosed with a rare heart condition. He didn't want to commit the fraud, but he didn't have a choice.

Luke needed an urgent and expensive surgery, but Peter had invested all his savings in the business. Since he didn't have the required funds, he committed a tax fraud by filing the wrong numbers. He kept his lips sealed about the scam because he knew it would land him in hot water the day it came out.

But the helplessness Peter felt now was no different from what he felt all those years ago. He had to do something to save his son before it was too late. He couldn't let Luke die, and he couldn't go to the cops as the kidnapper could harm his son.

But Peter knew that if someone could help him, it was one of his good friends Mike, who had been his partner in the police force seven years ago. Peter pulled out his phone and dialed his ex-partner.

"Whoa! Look who's calling! To what do I owe the pleasure of your phone call?" Mike asked cheerfully.

"I need your help, mate," Peter said. "Could you, uh, come to the car wash near my house? I'll tell you—Hello? Mike? Hello? Can you hear me?"

Peter pulled the phone away from his ear. The call was disconnected. He was about to dial Mike again when a message flashed across his screen.

"We're watching your every move, idiot, and we can hear you!" it began, and Peter's eyes widened in horror. "If you blab to him, you'll receive your son's dead body in a trash bag," the message continued. "Call him again and tell him you were mistaken."

Peter looked around frantically, desperate to know where the stalker was. If somebody was watching him, they must be nearby. At one point, his eyes darted to Dave. But Dave was busy yelling at an employee about a dirty mop. It couldn't be him.

Peter felt like smashing his phone and crushing it under his feet in rage. But this was his only tool to communicate with the kidnapper. He knew there was no way out of this but to follow the kidnapper's orders, so he redialed Mike.

"Hey, what's up, man? The call got disconnected. I'm just getting into my car. What were you saying?"

Peter sighed helplessly. "Actually, Mike. It's nothing. You don't need to come. I was just…Let's catch up sometime later."

Peter ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. Who could have taken Luke away? He couldn't recall having a business rival.

Peter drove home in a daze. He pulled into the driveway and waited for a few moments before getting out. He knew his wife was going to freak out after what had happened. Any parent would. But Amelia was far more emotional, and dealing with her was going to be an ordeal.

"Hey! I was just about to call you. What should I make for lunch? I'm so confused. How about some pasta?" Amelia continued as he walked in, but she stopped when she noticed his pale face.

"What's wrong, honey?" she asked. "What's going on? Where's Luke?"

"Luke, he's...Someone took him," he murmured dejectedly.

"Took him?" she snapped, approaching him and anxiously searching around. "What are you talking about, Peter? What exactly is going on?"

Peter collapsed onto the living room couch, burying his face in his palms, and told her everything that happened that morning. "I swear I was gone for like ten minutes, and when I came back to the car, Luke wasn't there..." he explained.

"How come you haven't called the cops yet? We need to report him missing!" she cried, sitting beside him on the couch. "Peter, answer me! Our child...We have no idea what he's going through. We need to find our son!"

"I don't want the cops to get involved. I can find my son on my own," he said stiffly, barely meeting her eye.

"You must be out of your mind not to call the cops, Peter! And I don't know what you were thinking, but I'm calling them!" She lunged to grab her phone from the table, but Peter snatched it away from her.

"We have to wait for the kidnapper to call us and give us further instructions!" he shouted, rising to his feet. "I have dealt with kidnappings, Amelia! You need to trust me!"

"You haven't dealt with the kidnapping of your child, Peter! This is different!" she yelled, infuriating him.

Peter stormed out of the living room towards the basement steps without saying anything. He went down to the basement and took out his gun. Peter kept the gun for safety reasons and never expected to use it, but the current situation was different.

When he returned to the living room, he noticed Amelia was on the landline. "What are you doing?" he snapped as he snatched the receiver from her grasp. "I told you not to call anyone, Amelia!"

"What am I supposed to do?" She burst into tears and curled on the floor like a crying baby. "I want Luke back, Peter! You don't understand how scared he must be. He's just 10! He's a child!"

Peter sighed as he knelt down and wrapped her in a hug. He had been too harsh on her. "Please trust me, honey. I'm promising you I'll find our son. I love Luke as much as you do. Nothing is going to happen to our son. You have to have faith in me."

Amelia buried her face in his chest and cried her heart out. When she was a bit calm, Peter helped her onto the couch and went to the kitchen. "I'll get you some water," he said, disappearing from the living room.

Back in the kitchen, Peter looked around to make sure Amelia wasn't nearby. He poured a glass of water, and the next thing he did…he did feel guilty about it. But Peter had no choice. He crushed a sleeping pill and mixed it in the water.

"Here," Peter offered the water to Amelia, and she drank it without suspecting him of anything. It took some time before the pill showed its effect. Then she fell into a deep sleep, right on the couch where she had been crying minutes ago.

Peter helped her lie down and kissed her forehead. "I promise you Luke will be home soon, honey," he whispered.

Peter stepped away from her and went to sit at the kitchen counter. He poured himself a glass of water, feeling overwhelmed by the current situation. Suddenly, a number flashed across the screen and caught his attention.

Peter picked up his buzzing phone and noticed it was the same private number that had texted him earlier. He quickly answered the call.

"Who are you? Why the hell are you doing it to my son?" he hissed into the phone, careful enough not to wake Amelia, although she was in a deep sleep.

"Bring the money to 48th Avenue in two hours," the kidnapper informed him. "You will find a blue garbage can there. Put the money inside and walk away. Within an hour, your son will be at your doorstep. Dead or alive, that depends on you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but—" Before Peter could say anything else, the line was disconnected. The kidnapper was using a voice modulation app. Peter still didn't know who he was and why he had abducted Luke, but there was no time to sit and reason. He had agreed to the kidnapper's offer, and there was no turning back.

Peter went to his home office and emptied out his safe. His situation was very different from what it had been five years ago, and $1,000,000 was definitely a crazy sum, but nothing mattered if it could bring his son back. He stuffed the money into a duffel bag, tucked the revolver into the back of his trousers, and shut the door behind him as he left the house.

An hour later, Peter stood across from the garbage can the kidnapper had mentioned. He looked around, then strolled over, tossed the money bag inside, and headed to a cafe across the street. The can was clearly visible through the cafe's glass window, and Peter took a table facing out.

Around ten minutes passed, but Peter didn't see anyone approaching the can. He checked his phone, but no calls or messages either.

If the kidnapper had received the money, Peter would've received some sort of confirmation. But this was strange. Peter didn't get any notification, and though the kidnapper said he was watching Peter's every move, he never asked Peter to leave the place.

Peter rose to his feet and beckoned to a waiter. "Hey, excuse me!"

"Yes, sir? How may I help you?"

"Um, did you notice anything strange going on here in the last few hours? You see that can?" he said, pointing to the can outside, and the waiter turned to look at it.

"It's almost in the middle of the pavement, and no one bothered to move it. It's as if nobody cares," Peter continued. "How long has that been there?"

"Well, you're right, sir. I thought it was strange too that a sanitation worker would install it in the middle of the pavement like that," he replied, which fueled Peter's suspicions.

"A sanitation worker?" Peter asked.

"Uh, I assumed he was one. A van stopped over, and a guy in casuals installed it before leaving...about an hour ago. But I felt it was strange because he wasn't dressed in his uniform," the waiter remarked. "And the van as well. They normally arrive in a truck...So, something was obviously out of the ordinary. But I got so preoccupied with the customers that I almost forgot about it. I didn't give it much thought until you asked me."

Peter realized something was amiss. He dashed out of the cafe and stopped dead near the can. When he removed the bin and peered inside, he gasped in shock. "Holy Jesus!"

There was no cash in the can. In fact, there was a big hole at the bottom of the container that led into a sewage opening. Peter realized he had been duped! He kicked the can away and peered inside the manhole. A rotten, built-in ladder led into the underground tunnel.

Peter climbed down the underground drain. It was dark and damp, and the walls seemed like they'd been built with slimy, moss-covered bricks. The pungent odor made him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

Water trickled from above, creating tiny echoing splashes as it reached the unclean water below, a mixture of muck and discarded trash. The bottom of Peter's trousers were soaked from the dirty water as he waded across it.

Suddenly, Peter heard some movement in the distance. It was as if someone moved briskly. Then the footsteps got louder, and it seemed like someone was running. The sounds kept getting clearer and clearer.

Peter took a hesitant step forward, and a silhouette emerged on the neighboring wall. "Hey! Stop!" he yelled as he dashed through the water, the splashes reverberating down the tunnel.

At one point, he spotted the figure. He had no time to waste. Peter fired the gun, and the silhouette landed in the muddy water, splashes hitting the surrounding walls.

Peter dashed up to the figure and pulled off his hood, only to realize it was…a young boy. Peter could swear the kid was no older than 20!

"Where is my son? Who are you?" he asked, twisting the lad's arms, sending him crying and wincing him in pain.

"I don't know! Ahh! That hurts!" he screamed, his voice echoing in the space.

"I'm…I'm just a courier guy! I don't know anything else!"

"Are you going to tell me everything, or—" Peter twisted his arms further, and the boy couldn't bear the pain. He finally agreed to confess everything.

"OK, OK, I'll tell you what I know! Please! Leave me!"

Peter stopped twisting his arm but maintained his grip.

"They told me to leave the money in a car," the boy said. "I received orders via messages. I don't know who this money belongs to or what it was given for, OK? I'm not your guy!" he said.

"Get up!" Peter hauled him to his feet. "Where did I hurt you?"

"Nowhere," he shrugged. "I fell because I got kinda scared by the gunshot."

"Listen, kid," Peter told him. "Now that I know who you are, I can report you, and I'm sure you wouldn't like that. I'm an ex-cop, alright? And I know my buddies back in the station won't go easy on you. But if you do as I say, I'll let you go."

"What…what am I supposed to do?" the kid asked timidly.

"First, I need more info. Where will this car be... where were you supposed to drop the bag?"

"Do you know 'The Brooks Meals' at the end of 48th Avenue?" the boy asked. "That weird old restaurant with red windows? A gray SUV will be parked there. I was asked to deliver the consignment there."

Peter paused for a moment, formulating a plan at the back of his head. "Alright, kid, I've been there. Now listen to what you're gonna do…" he said and instructed the boy about the next move.

About ten minutes later, Peter climbed out of the sewer on a neighboring street near the restaurant. He watched from afar as the boy placed the money in the SUV and walked away.

Peter crouched behind a parked vehicle, waiting for someone to approach the SUV. A couple of minutes later, he saw a man stop right outside the gray car.

Peter's eyes widened in horror and disbelief, and he took a step back as the man looked around before opening the car door. "Jesus! Mike?!" Peter was taken aback by what he was seeing. His friend and ex-partner was behind all the blackmailing?

Mike got into the car and drove down the street. Peter was shocked by the sight but he couldn't wait there. He had to act quickly. Finally, he spotted a taxi headed down the street.

"Stop! Stop!" He rushed over and flagged down the taxi, asking the driver to follow Mike's SUV.

Peter couldn't believe that out of all the people, his ex-partner would do something so heinous. "Please keep a distance. I don't want him to know we're tailing him," Peter told the driver and the man looked at him in the rearview mirror.

He probably judged Peter for what they were doing, but Peter didn't have an alternate way out of the situation if he wanted to see his son alive. But the main question was…why would Mike do it?

Mike had been his good friend besides being his ex-partner. He was probably one of the people Peter trusted blindly. Then what was Mike's motive behind the kidnapping? Was he alone in it, or did he have accomplices?

The taxi driver's voice snapped Peter out of his thoughts. "Sir, I'm going to have to charge you extra for this trip. We're on our way to the freeway that will take us out of town. I don't usually drive on this route!" he said with a sneer.

Peter leaned closer to the window and looked out. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice it. They were almost out of the city.

"Sure," he told the driver and checked his wristwatch. It had been 15 minutes since they were following Mike's car. Peter slumped in the seat, his attention fixed on Mike's SUV now.

"Where are you going, Mike? What's going on with you?" Peter asked himself as if he would receive an answer. He didn't know what had compelled Mike to take this step, but one thing was certain. Peter was going to find out what Mike's motive was behind it all and save his son, no matter what happened.

Another ten minutes later, Mike's car turned into the forest road just before the freeway's end. Peter knew that Mike's late grandmother had an old cottage there. "Maybe he's held Luke there!" Peter thought.

He asked the taxi driver to stop a few miles before the cottage as he feared the sound of the taxi's tires could draw Mike's attention. Peter paid the driver and decided to continue the journey on foot.

Twigs snapped and dried leaves crunched beneath his feet as Peter made his way through the thick shrubs. When he made it out of the dense foliage, he could spot Mike's car in the distance. It was parked right outside the cottage.

But Peter didn't walk in the car's direction. Instead, he turned and took the path that would lead him to the back of the cottage. Peter was going to sneak inside the cabin and figure out what was going on. He hoped Luke was there…and safe.

Arriving at the back entrance of the cottage, Peter hunched over to avoid any unwanted attention. He reached the back door and pushed it gently to check it was open. And it was. It emitted a low screech as it opened, and Peter was about to tiptoe inside when he felt the cold metal against his temple, and his hands instinctively went in the air.

"Ever heard of a tracker in a phone?" Mike hissed as he pressed the gun's barrel further against his skin. "Do you think it's that hard for a police officer to track someone's location?" he scoffed. "Geez, Peter! I thought you were better than this!"

"And I thought you were a friend! Why…why are you doing this to me?" he asked brazenly, although he was scared.

"Well, I had the same question in my mind when you quit the police force and started your own business. I'd told you I would need some time...that I'd gather the funds, and we could become co-founders. I just needed time!" Mike snarled, and things slowly started to make sense to Peter.

"But no!" he went on. "You didn't even offer me a job in your goddamn company, Peter! Instead, what did you do? You founded the company with Shelby and Steve, your so-called other friends! So this is my revenge, Peter!" he added, lifting the duffel bag Peter had asked the courier guy to put in the SUV.

"Wait! You're not getting anything by killing me! The money inside the bag is fake!" Peter announced, and Mike frowned.

"Check the bag. The bills are fakes!"

"What?" Mike opened the bag with one hand while still holding Peter at gunpoint. And he realized Peter was right. A wave of fury gripped Mike.

"Where's the money?" he screamed. "Tell me where's the freakin' money!"

"In my car," Peter said. "I left the cash there in case my plan didn't work!"

Mike lost his cool at that point. With all his wrath seething inside him, he whacked Peter's head hard with the gun's muzzle. The force was so strong that Peter passed out in an instant.

An hour must've gone by when Peter opened his eyes. He heard a muffled voice, but it took him some time to figure out who was calling him.

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!" Luke said. "Daddy? Can you hear me?"

As Peter's vision slowly adjusted to the surroundings, he realized he was stuck in the basement of the forest house, and his son…Luke was there! Right beside him, tied to a chair.

"Jesus, Luke!" Peter cried, his head throbbing. "Are…Are you alright, buddy?"

"Daddy, I'm fine…" Luke said. "How are we going to get out of here?"

"I'll figure something out, bud," Luke groaned as he looked around, but his hands and feet were tied, and he could barely move. He gritted his teeth and groaned in pain, trying to remove the thick chords securing his hands behind him, but it was pointless.

"Do one thing, buddy," he suggested to Luke, thinking why he didn't come up with the idea earlier.

"We're going to try to untie each other's hands, alright? Drag the chair towards me and face the other side. Quick, Luke! We need to get out of here!"

A terrified Luke did as Peter instructed him to do. Soon, father and son were seated back-to-back.

"Wait, let me try untying yours first," Peter said as Luke's hands were tied behind his back, too. But while he was trying to free his son, the basement door flung open, and Luke froze when he noticed Mike in the doorway.

“Aww, you finally got to meet your son, Peter!" Mike smirked sarcastically, lifting a bag. "And here's all the real cash," he added, patting the bag.

"Don't hurt him, Mike!" Luke pleaded with him. "Look, whatever happened is between us. You got the money! Let my son go!"

"I never wanted to kill him or you!" Mike revealed with a nasty smile. "However, I need guarantees that you will not go to the police. Remember the accident that happened during the warehouse operation? You and I both know that it wasn't an accident, Peter, and you know that if I testify, the cops will investigate the case in a very different way, and you will face a life sentence!"

"I know…" Peter hung his head in shame.

"Good. So, hopefully, you'll forget all about today. Bring me another $2 million in a week, and no one will ever hear anything from me ever again. Case closed forever. Do we have a deal?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Peter said quietly, feeling pathetic about his situation. "Deal."

"Wonderful. I'll be in touch about the details. For now, excuse me, boys!" Mike said and sauntered out of the house.

"Daddy…Didn't you say bad guys go to jail?" Luke innocently asked as Peter untied the ropes around his wrists.

Peter hung his head as a sad thought came to his mind. "You're right, Luke. Bad guys should end up in prison…even if that bad guy is your father."

The moment Peter's hands were freed, he called the cops.

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