The neon sign from the pizza joint across the street cast a sickly green hue over Molly's face as she peered through binoculars at the suburban house. Bill fidgeted beside her in the parked van, drumming his fingers on a hand-drawn map of the Johnson residence. "That's a lot of balloons," Molly whispered, lowering the binoculars. "Must be at least thirty kids in there." Bill grimaced, adjusting his black beanie. "Thirty screaming witnesses. Perfect." Molly rolled her eyes and pointed to the garage. "We go in through there while they're doing the cake. Parents will be distracted with cameras." "What if some brat needs to pee and spots us?" Bill asked, chewing nervously on a licorice stick. "That's why you're wearing the clown costume," Molly replied, tossing him a red rubber nose. Bill caught it with a scowl. "I hate children's parties." "You hate everything." "Not true. I like presents," Bill said, his frown morphing into a smile. "Especially ones I don't have to pay for." Molly checked her watch. "Showtime in twenty minutes. Ready, Giggles?" "Call me that again and I'll steal your share too."