The dim light from the convenience store across the street flickered over Molly's face as she hunched over the makeshift blueprint of the daycare center hallway. Bill, her partner in crime, scratched the back of his neck and let out an exasperated sigh loud enough to rouse a grumble from Molly. "Come on, Bill. Don't you remember the time we robbed the dentist's office? Or the time we broke into the library? This is easy compared to that," Molly said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Yeah, I remember. And this is no hard candy run either. We're talking breaking and entering, grand theft, and something about consorting with minors. What if one of these rug rats tags along?" Bill retorted, clearly nervous. He placed his hands on his hips, casting a shadow across the rough sketch of rooms and corridors. "Arug-a-lug? What the hell is that?" Molly looked up from the plan, her brow furrowed. "Rug rats? Little children, lady. Minors. Hell, I can't even spell baby. How we gonna romp with babies to get a cache of toys." "We're here to steal, not play with babies. Geez. The party is for a four-year-old's birthday, and we're there for the loot, not to attend. I don't want to hear another word about it." Molly closed her eyes and counted to ten, taking a deep breath to calm down. "I think I prefer the old days, before all that horror show business. Please give me a goddamn criminal of a stature like a Swiss bank. They know how to put up a fight," Bill said, pacing around the cramped living room. Molly turned on her heel, pulled her chair in front of Bill, and parked herself on it; she stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankles under the chair. Only her unflapping eyes left any question that there was an undercurrent to her words. "Look, I'll drop you off a few blocks from here. You can remain in the truck, this big hulk; just remain outside, unlocked, with the security off, and we break and enter, on my own, no assistance. You have a window of time till the party winds down and folks start filing out." With a growing scowl, Bill looked at Molly and began to nod meekly; even he felt bad about this one, but the money involved was enticing. "The trick is the storage room. Covered camera, covered security guard. Our escape is this vent right out in the woods. No ladder necessary. But everything else is my job." Molly wished she hadn't taken on this burglarly late in her career, but she knew it'd take her days off from catering to a dwindling number of culinary hostages. "But what about the storage room. If they put their cache in that big vault—" "Then we stay and bus tables till it's deserted and gone. You hear me?" Molly said, her blue eyes brimming over and set crookedly. "I've heard you," Bill said pushing his chair aside and standing up; it looked like another long evening on the Mississippi mother lode waterways.