Molly drummed her fingers on the worn diner table, her coffee growing cold as she studied the birthday party invitation. The cartoon unicorns prancing across the paper made her stomach turn. Bill sat across from her, shoving the last bite of apple pie into his mouth and leaving a trail of crumbs in his scraggly beard. "We hit it at cake time," Molly whispered, sliding the invitation across the sticky tabletop. "Everyone's distracted when little Sophie blows out her candles." The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Bill wiped his mouth with a napkin. The late-night crowd of truckers and insomniacs paid them no attention. He traced the address with his index finger, leaving a greasy smudge on the paper. "You really want to steal from eight-year-olds?" Bill's voice cracked. Molly leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. The stack of wrapped presents would be worth thousands – rich parents trying to outdo each other with the latest gaming consoles and designer toys. She watched a roach scurry across the floor and smiled. "Sometimes the best scores come in the smallest packages."