Veronica was returning from the country house that she had been trying unsuccessfully to sell for the second month. As she entered the highway, she noticed two girls sitting by the roadside on a stool, arranging a pyramid of jam jars. The girls, about ten years old, looked quite serious, with their arms crossed on their chests.
Veronica decided to turn the car around and approach closer. It turned out that one of them was just observing the process: “I’m not trading,” explained the older one. “I’m just sitting here with Nastya for company.”
Turning her question to the younger girl, Veronica asked: “What is your jam made of, Nastya?”
The girl pointed to a sticker attached to the jar: “It’s all written there.”
The customer picked up one of the jars and carefully read the label, printed in neat black letters: “Jam with a Prediction.” Below this large title was a smaller note in red: “Currant.” The lid was tightly sealed with paper, tied with twine.
“Interesting,” Veronica exclaimed in surprise. “It feels like some special brand!”
“It’s made by my grandpa Dima,” Nastya proudly replied. “He works as a forester and collects berries in the forest.”
“And where are the predictions?” the woman inquired.
“Under the wrap,” the girl answered seriously. “Whoever opens it first, it will come true for them.”
“And who makes these predictions?” Veronica continued to probe.
“They’re not made up,” Nastya objected. “Grandpa dreams them, and he writes them down every morning.”
The woman laughed, but she found the idea amusing. She remembered that her sick mother-in-law had asked her to bring something sweet, so she decided to take a jar. Putting it in her bag, she headed to the hospital.
Entering the ward, Veronica took out the jar and showed it to her mother-in-law: “Tamara Vasilievna, I have a surprise for you!”
The woman weakly smiled and asked to put the jam on the bedside table. But then a doctor entered the room.
“Hello, Veronica. You know that Tamara Vasilievna needs to stick to a strict diet. We can’t achieve stable remission. What have you brought her?”
“Jam… She can have jam,” Veronica muttered, feeling uncomfortable in front of the stern doctor.
“You can, but be careful. Currants may be too acidic, and any acid is bad for the stomach now…”
Before Veronica could respond, the doctor quickly removed the wrap from the jar’s lid. His gaze fixed on a piece of paper, and he froze…
Tamara Vasilievna had fallen ill shortly after losing her only son Alexey. He was the CEO of a small company, met Veronica, and married her. The young couple rented a studio apartment, dreaming of saving up for a mortgage. However, fate decided otherwise: Alexey died in a car accident, and his mother fell severely ill immediately after the funeral.
Veronica could not leave her lonely mother-in-law, who had suffered such a loss. She moved in with her, abandoning her own plans, and began to care for the woman as if she were her own mother. Now all the medical staff knew this strange daughter-in-law, who lived with her former mother-in-law and selflessly took care of her
.
And then Veronica’s mother asked her to try to sell their dacha, which no one used — neither she nor her brother and his family.
The dacha was located in a picturesque village at the edge of a dense pine forest. Previously, there was an old wooden house there, but later they built a modern two-story brick mansion, hoping that all generations of the family would gather there in the summer. But fate decided otherwise: Veronica remained unmarried until she was 34, and her younger brother hated country trips, considering them just a reason for endless chores. So the dacha stood, slowly overgrown with weeds and losing its original appearance.
It was in this village that an experienced forester, Grandpa Dima, lived, who spent most of the year in his watchtower deep in the forest, and in winter he moved to a modest house in the village.
His granddaughter Nastya, who suffered from constant coughing, sometimes visited him. To help her, the grandfather prepared medicinal jam from young cones and pine buds. However, the girl did not like the bitter taste of the coniferous treat, so the resourceful grandfather began slipping notes with predictions under the wraps of the jars. This trick made Nastya eat at least a teaspoon of the medicinal jam three times a day, and soon her cough passed.
The idea of predictions appealed to the forester’s daughter, Nastya’s mother, who began offering such jam to friends and acquaintances. People gladly took unusual gifts for relatives, and small company owners ordered it for New Year’s presents for employees. The business prospered, and the grandfather no longer needed to take his goods to the road.
But the story with the jar that Veronica bought turned out to be quite special…
Removing the wrap from the lid, the doctor discovered a photograph taken with a Polaroid camera underneath. The photo captured a nine-year-old boy with his hands tied with rope near a forest watchtower. Behind him, a large man in camouflage held him by the hood. On the back of the card, written neatly, were the words: “Serebryakova, forestry, block 50, 325” and a date.
“Where did you get this jar?” the doctor asked, looking at Veronica in surprise.
“On the highway near Serebryakova,” she replied.
“This needs to be reported to the police immediately,” he declared. “Someone witnessed an abduction and found such a way to report the incident.”
Veronica felt a chill inside. The witness was most likely Nastya’s grandfather! But why did he choose this method? Why didn’t he go to the local police officer? Perhaps he was threatened?
She added anxiously: “David Evgenievich, what if this somehow harms the child? After all, some law enforcement officers are themselves connected with criminal circles.”
The doctor, who had already forgotten about checking the acidity of the jam, thoughtfully stirred the contents with a spoon and brought it to his mouth.
“Yes, possibly. If these are professional kidnappers, they might have informants in the authorities.”
“And what should we do?” Veronica asked, bewildered. “We can’t ignore this call for help.”
“I don’t know…” the doctor muttered, heading for the exit. “My whole department is asking for help, and I need to treat everyone, so sorry, without me.”
Turning before the door, he added: “The jam is sweet enough, so Tamara Vasilievna can have a little.”
Returning home deep in thought, Veronica turned on the local news and suddenly shuddered, clutching her handbag. Taking out the photograph of the boy, she compared it with what was being shown on television.
The news reported the abduction of a nine-year-old son of a well-known entrepreneur from a sports complex. According to the investigation, the perpetrators neutralized the security guard and carried the child out in a sports bag. Cameras recorded their movement to the parking lot, after which the tracks disappeared. At the end of the report, the phone numbers of the police and the boy’s parents were announced.
Veronica took a screenshot and froze, her hands trembling. The boy in the jar’s photograph was the same child mentioned in the news. At that moment, the phone rang – it was the treating doctor of her mother-in-law.
“Good evening, Veronica. Are you by any chance watching regional news?” he asked.
“I am, David Evgenievich. It’s definitely the same boy! I want to call his parents,” she replied.
“Rightly so. I can imagine what they’re going through right now. And I thought… I have a childhood friend who used to serve in the special forces. He could help organize a rescue operation.”
“No, no, let them decide for themselves. We can’t act on our own,” Veronica objected.
“Alright, but remember his contact, just in case something goes wrong,” the doctor said.
Thanking him, she dialed the number announced in the news. When the boy’s father answered, her voice barely audible:
“Hello. I have information about your son. Maybe we could meet?”
The man paused and replied: “They might be watching us. Where can we meet safely?”
Thinking, Veronica suggested: “In the hospital, in the therapeutic department on the second floor. There’s a hall for visitors there.”
“Excellent,” the businessman thanked her and hung up.
She went up to the specified place and waited. After a few minutes, a man and a woman entered, introducing themselves as Valeriy and Valentina Korsakov. Sitting next to them, Veronica took out the photograph and handed it to Valeriy. Seeing his son with tied hands, he turned pale and clutched his chest. His wife tried to take the photo, but he pressed it against himself:
“Don’t, Valya. It’s too much for you.”
Valentina covered her face with her hands and began to sob: “Oh my God, Kostya…”
“Where did you get this?” Valeriy asked quietly.
Veronica explained about buying the jam and finding the photograph under the wrap, explaining that it was probably made by the local forester.
“Right in the jar?” Valeriy was surprised.
“Under the lid. The girl said her grandpa is a forester. Maybe this was the only way he could pass on the information.”
“Then we need to head there immediately,” the man declared. “I know how much they’re asking. Even in a week, I couldn’t gather such an amount.”
“But you understand that they’re armed!” Valentina exclaimed.
“I’m not unarmed either. And I’m ready to lay down everyone who stands between me and my son,” Valeriy grimly replied.
“Wait,” Veronica intervened. “Could your doctor contact his friend from the special forces? Maybe a specialist could organize everything?”
Valeriy looked at her displeased: “That would take time.”
“Valera, listen,” Valentina softly said. “This is serious. Let’s ask for help.”
Veronica called the doctor again, and a few minutes later, he entered the hall with a tall man.
“Arsen, these friends need help,” he introduced him.
The company left the hospital and got into Valeriy’s car. At one of the turns, he unexpectedly headed towards a cottage settlement.
“Where are we going?” Valentina was frightened.
“You’d better stay home, dear. This is a matter for men,” he said, opening the gates of the mansion.
Despite her attempts to object, Valeriy looked at her so sternly that she, sniffling, got out of the car and crossed herself several times.
Arriving at the place where Veronica bought the jam, they discovered that the girls were already gone. They decided to drive to the village and ask the locals about Nastya.
Veronica spotted one of the girls who had been there earlier and asked Valeriy to stop.
“Hey!” she called out. “Do you know where to find Nastya?”
The girl turned around and recognized Veronica: “Oh, it’s you! Nastya went to her parents. But if you want to buy more jam, you need to go down this road to the end. There, at the very edge of the forest, is a house with a green roof. That’s where Grandpa Dima lives.”
Veronica returned to the car. Arsen addressed Valeriy: “Driving right up to the house is risky; they might be watching. It’s better to stop a little earlier. Let Veronica approach the house alone and talk to the owner.”
That’s what they decided. Seeing the house with the green roof at the end of the street, they stopped, letting Veronica out. She, taking her handbag, headed to the house. A dog barked behind a low fence. A short, gray-haired man appeared from behind the door.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m here about the jam,” Veronica replied, noticing how the forester’s face instantly changed.
“Come in,” he quickly said, letting her in and calming the dog.
Inside, Veronica immediately explained the purpose of her visit: “Not far from here, down the street, is a car. The boy’s father and his assistant are both armed.”
Grandpa Dmitry shook his head: “Are they planning to start a shootout right in the forest?”
“You should have seen Valeriy when he saw the photo of his son,” she excitedly continued. “He was ready to go without any preparation! How could I stop him?”
The forester explained the situation: “When those people appeared in our area, the chief game warden forbade me from entering that part of the forest and asking unnecessary questions. To prevent me from doing something stupid, as he put it, he demanded that I temporarily hand over my smartphone, leaving only a walkie-talkie. The cabin where they’re hiding is perfect for their purposes—little known to anyone. I, of course, complied, but one day, while checking the neighboring plots, I heard a child’s scream. And then a sound as if someone was covering the child’s mouth. The forest has excellent acoustics. It shocked me. Since then, that scream has haunted me. And I decided that I had to help, although I didn’t even know the child’s gender.”
“You chose a day when the wind drowned out all sounds,” Veronica guessed.
“Exactly. I know the paths that lead to that cabin, but even a person can’t get through there. I settled in the bushes, taking a camera with me. I saw some tough guy lead the boy out on a rope. I clicked the camera and hid. Later, I heard the thug knocking on the outhouse door: ‘Hey, you there, did you fall asleep?’ Then I took a second photo, though the boy was less clear in it. I thought: there’s evidence, but where to pass it on? My daughter and her husband had gone to the mountains, leaving the granddaughter. That’s when I came up with the idea of selling on the highway. I couldn’t show up myself, felt they were watching. In the village, our local officer has his own people. I had to ask Nastya,” Dmitry sighed.
“So, we did right not to approach the house?” Veronica clarified.
“Of course!” he confirmed. “Now you need to demonstrate that you just bought jam from me. And then, when it gets dark, we’ll head to the cabin. There’s usually only one guard there at night; we’ll manage.”
They walked out the gate, holding two jars of jam. Veronica raised them to the light: “Thank you so much! My mother-in-law says your jam is the best she’s ever tasted. We’ll definitely come back, so prepare some more from blackberries and cloudberries.”
Grandpa Dmitry playfully winked, gallantly kissing her hand. “A real actor,” she thought.
Back in the car, Veronica announced: “Guys, we’ll have to spend time here until evening. I suggest we go somewhere to eat, and closer to night, we’ll return. Uncle Dima said there’s only one guard left in the cabin at night.”
“Uncle Dima?” the men asked in surprise.
“Yes, our forester. A very nice man,” Veronica smiled.
They drove onto the highway and stopped at a small café a few kilometers away. After ordering food, everyone started calling their relatives: Veronica—her mother and mother-in-law, Valeriy—his wife. Only Arsen didn’t make any calls, and when the others finished, he ordered them to turn off their phones. Valeriy reached for a cigarette, but Arsen strictly forbade it:
“Under no circumstances. If you reek of tobacco smoke, they’ll detect you in the forest right away. Wait for your son’s sake.”
Valeriy guiltily hid the pack back.
When it got dark, they returned to the village, parked at the turn, and walked to the forester’s house. The house guard had already been locked in the kennel, and the guests entered unhindered. Here, they assigned roles.
Arsen announced: “I’ll take responsibility for the tough guy.”
“Just not too harshly,” Valeriy requested. “Don’t scare the child.”
“No cruelty,” Arsen reassured him, taking out a vial. “David Evgenievich gave me chloroform. This client will sleep until morning.”
Grandpa Dmitry was to watch outside, listen to the forest, and signal if something went wrong. Valeriy was to retrieve his son from the cabin. They decided to take knives to free the boy from his bonds, just in case. Veronica stayed in the forester’s house, creating the appearance of the owner’s ordinary life.
Finally, Dmitry led them through the back door into the yard, instructing them to lie on the ground and listen. After that, they crawled forward, and once they were among the thick bushes, they stood up and continued moving. The journey took about an hour. The moon mercilessly lit the path, and the light in the cabin’s only window outlined the silhouette of the guard.
Dmitry cautioned with a finger to his lips, and everyone froze. After some time, they heard the creak of the front door. Arsen took off his shoes and slipped barefoot into the yard. Loud sounds of a struggle broke the silence, then something heavy fell to the ground. Arsen peeked around the corner and called Valeriy. The father rushed to him, and together they burst inside.
The boy, covered with a thin blanket, was sleeping on a couch covered with a bear skin. Nearby was a cot for the guard. Valeriy noticed a rope tied to a large hook in the ceiling and cut it with one swift movement.
The child stirred. Valeriy picked him up along with the blanket and ran outside. Arsen ran to put on his shoes, while Dmitry and Valeriy, with his son in his arms, headed for the pre-prepared road.
“Dad?” Kostya whispered, disbelieving his eyes. “How did you find me?”
“Quiet, son, I’ll tell you later,” a panting Valeriy replied.
Arsen soon caught up with them and took the child off his father, giving him a break. Dmitry confidently led the group along familiar paths. Approaching Serebryakova, the men allowed themselves to catch their breath, but Arsen reminded that it was too early to rejoice.
“Veronica, can you drive?” he asked.
She nodded. Valeriy handed her the keys, and she dashed for the car. The boy was seated in the back, next to Veronica, while Valeriy took the driver’s seat.
Arsen quietly asked the forester: “Isn’t it dangerous for you to stay here?”
“No,” Dmitry replied. “In the morning, I’ll go to the far quarter. No one will find me there, only I know the way through the swamp.”
“Take care of yourself,” all three wished. Valeriy added: “Time to go.”
On the road, Veronica arranged Kostya’s head on her lap. The boy seemed severely exhausted. Arsen and Valeriy spoke softly, and Veronica soon dozed off. She woke up when the car stopped.
They were standing in the courtyard of the impressive two-story mansion of the Korsakovs. The entire family was gathered on the porch: mom, older children, grandparents, servants. Arsen, who was literally overwhelmed with gratitude, felt awkward. Seeing the sleeping Veronica, he immediately introduced her:
“This is all thanks to her! Without her help, nothing would have been possible…”
Veronica suddenly found herself in the center of attention, receiving hugs, handshakes, and kisses. She had never seen such a family celebration before.
Freeing herself from the grateful hosts, she turned to Arsen: “We should head home.”
“What?! But it’s night outside,” Valentina objected. “At least have some tea after such a day!”
Not wanting to offend the hostess, the guests agreed. In the brightly lit dining room, Arsen was surprised to notice traces of the night’s adventure on his clothes: clumps of dirt and grass. But the family had already seated him at the table, where, in addition to tea, various snacks appeared. For Veronica, this became the latest and most satisfying breakfast at 4 in the morning.
After saying goodbye to the grateful hosts, they set off for home. Valeriy offered to give them a lift, and it turned out that Arsen lived quite close to Veronica’s mother’s house.
“Maybe we’ll meet again?” Valeriy suggested. “I want to properly thank everyone, especially brave Grandpa Dima, who risked taking that photo. We’ll definitely keep in touch!”
A week later, a large company again went to Serebryakova. Grandpa Dima was busy in the yard with some new invention, and energetic Nastya was jumping around him. Seeing the guests, Dmitry beamed with a wide smile:
“Ah, our heroes! Only why can’t I see Kostya?”
“The boy is still recovering and stayed home with his mother,” Valeriy replied. “We decided to visit you, to check if everything’s calm after the recent events.”
“Peaceful, very peaceful,” the forester assured. “The chief game warden resigned, and the hunting cabin was moved closer to the village. I kept to myself for a few days, and then a neighbor told me that strangers in an SUV had visited her, asking about foreigners in these parts. She reacted brilliantly: said that only her daughter with a child appears here, and jam buyers. The visitors quickly left with nothing.”
At that moment, a rosy-cheeked woman with a kind smile came out of the house, greeted everyone, and invited them for tea with hot pancakes. Although the guests thanked her, they politely declined. Then Valeriy pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Dmitry. The forester tried to refuse, but the host firmly said:
“Father, take this, don’t be offended. You understand how much you contributed to our story.”
Inside the envelope was a bank card with a substantial balance. Valeriy handed similar envelopes to Veronica and Arsen, who had been living unstably recently, taking odd jobs as they came. Korsakov offered Arsen to become his son’s permanent bodyguard. The former special forces operative was pleasantly surprised by this turn of fate.
And the dacha owned by Veronica’s mother, still standing in Serebryakova, was now in no hurry to be sold. A year later, Arsen, having tied his life with Veronica, completely transformed the house, making it cozy and modern. Now this place became a favorite for meetings with friends.
Thanks to Dmitry’s photographs and the testimony of the operation participants, all the criminals involved in the kidnapping were found and received deserved punishment.
Veronica’s mother-in-law, whom she told in detail about the events, experienced the story with the family, shaking her head at the dangerous moments and smiling joyfully at the successful outcome. David Evgenievich finally announced the onset of remission and allowed Tamara Vasilievna to return home. For her, this was a real triumph—she could finally continue her life surrounded by her loved ones.
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