Molly slid into the booth across from Bill, who was hunched over a crayon drawing of what appeared to be a floor plan. "Is that supposed to be the Henderson house?" "Obviously." Bill tapped the purple circle. "This is the bouncy castle. Intel suggests it'll be stationed in the northeast quadrant of the backyard." "Intel? You mean Facebook?" "Mrs. Henderson posts everything. Look." Bill pulled out his phone. "Forty-seven confirmed RSVPs. Ages four through seven. Pizza delivery at 2:15. Cake at 3:30. And most importantly—" He zoomed in on a photo. "Present table in the living room, visible through the sliding glass door." "We're really doing this? Stealing from children?" "We're stealing from their parents. Big difference. These kids are getting iPads and gaming consoles. When I was seven, I got socks." "You got socks last Christmas too." "From you!" "They were nice socks." Molly grabbed the crayon drawing. "What's your plan? Walk in the front door?" "Better. You'll be the entertainment." "Excuse me?" "Birthday clown. I already ordered the costume." "Absolutely not." "Balloon artist?" "No." "Face painter?" "Bill, I swear—" "Fine. You'll be a mom. Drop off little Timmy, scope the interior, leave the sliding door unlocked." "Who's Timmy?" "Me. I'll be in the bouncy castle." "You're six-foot-three." "I'm very tall for eight." Molly rubbed her temples. "This is insane. What happens when they realize I don't have a kid at the party?" "That's the beauty. Parents just dump their kids and run. Nobody actually stays." "Mrs. Henderson might notice a strange woman in her living room." "She'll be outside supervising the sugar-fueled chaos. I've studied her previous parties. She's very hands-on." "And you'll be bouncing with toddlers?" "Creating a diversion. Kids love when adults play with them. I'll lead them in a rousing game of freeze tag, you slip inside, grab the goods." "The goods? They're birthday presents." "Temporarily displaced birthday presents." "That we're stealing." "Redistributing." "To ourselves." "Look, do you want to pay rent this month or not?" Molly sighed, studying the crayon masterpiece. "What's this brown square?" "The dog." "They have a dog?" "Buttercup. Cocker spaniel. Loves belly rubs." "Of course you know that." "I'm thorough. Oh, and I got us a getaway vehicle." "Please tell me it's not—" "Ice cream truck." "Bill." "It's perfect! We park outside, kids think it's part of the party. Nobody suspects the ice cream man." "Where did you even get an ice cream truck?" "Craigslist. Guy threw in three boxes of Rocket Pops." "This is our dumbest heist yet." "Dumber than the mall Santa thing?" "That was your idea too." "And it worked!" "We stole four dollars and a cookie." "A good cookie." Molly stood up. "Fine. But I'm not wearing a clown wig." "Deal. Saturday, 1:45 sharp. Don't forget to wrap a fake present." "Why?" "You need an excuse to put something on the present table. Basic heist protocol." "There's nothing basic about robbing a seven-year-old's birthday party." "Six. Little Madison Henderson is turning six." "I'm going home." "Get some rest. Big day Saturday." Bill returned to his crayon drawing, adding what looked like escape routes in orange.