Psych in the eyes of the criminals

Pilot

"FivE miLLIoN dOllaRs" the note said in magazine clippings, "in the TraSH cAn bETwEEn Froy's Eating Plaza  AND the sUnfLOWER Cafe. d0nT call tHe coPS and dO iT by WeDneSday OR your sOn is DeaD" I breathed a small sigh of releif. At least he wasnt already dead, and I could easily come up with five million dollars. that wasn't TOO much, I mean a little hefty even for me, but I had billions more where that came from, and more coming. Mccallum Textiles (the family company) earns thousands a day.

Tomorrow was Wednesday, so I would have to go to the bank this afternoon. I went to call the bank right after I read the note.

"Personal Banking offices, please hold" the woman said right before the elevator music came on. My son was probably tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth and i was listening to hold music.

Sure Camden wasnt the best son. Especially about a year and a half ago, when he crashed our family boat into the aquarium for no reason except being drunk off his ass, but he cleaned up his act right away when I cut his alowance in half and threatened to cut him out of the will entirely. I will gladly pay the ransom if it means getting my son back. I didn't even notice he was gone. What kind of terrible father am I? He had only been at the dog park (or so I thought) for two hours. But if he wasn't at the dog park, well, a lot can happen in two hours.

"Hello Sir, our soonest appointment is this Thursday afternoon, unless you come right now and make a quick withdraw or deposit and be finished before 6:30"

I looked at the clock. It read 6:05.

"Yes, that'll do."

I re-read the note and decided whether I should take it with me or not. The Sunflower Cafe was about 45 minutes away from my house but the bank was in the opposite direction. The only reason I knew what and where it was is because Malcolm Orso (Camden's best childhood friend) and Camden used to spend their summers near there together. I left the note on the counter and dashed to the car.
On the way there I couldn't stop imagining my son, Camden, knocked out on the floor. What if he tried to escape and they hit him on the head? What if they made him do things that... I had to stop. If I cried I would never stop. 'It'll be just fine' I told myself. It's only 24 hours. They will give him back tomorrow and I'll be short 5 mil, but I'll have my son back, and that's all that matters at the moment.