The van smelled like stale coffee and regret. Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the dashboard, squinting at her own terrible handwriting. "Okay, so the party starts at two. That gives us exactly forty-five minutes to get in, grab the goods, and get out." Bill peered over her shoulder. "Is that supposed to be a bouncy castle or a tumor?" "It's a bouncy castle, Bill. Focus." "I am focused. I'm focused on the fact that we're about to rob a seven-year-old's birthday party." "Six-year-old. Tommy Pemberton turns six today." "Oh, well that makes it better then, doesn't it?" Molly rolled her eyes. "Do you want to pay off Vince or not? Because last I checked, he was going to remove your kneecaps with a melon baller." "I still think there were better options." "Like what?" "I don't know, a bank? A jewelry store? Literally anything that doesn't involve a Paw Patrol theme?" "Banks have security guards, Bill. Armed ones. You know what Tommy Pemberton's house has? A labradoodle named Mr. Snuffles." "Dogs can be vicious." "Mr. Snuffles is eleven years old and blind in one eye." Bill slumped in his seat. "Fine. Walk me through it again." "Catering entrance through the back. I've got the uniform." "Why do you get to be catering?" "Because I don't look like someone who just escaped from a documentary about failed criminals." "That's hurtful." "It's accurate. You're going in through the basement window. I measured it last week. You'll fit." "You measured it?" "I was very committed to this plan." "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard." Molly ignored him. "The presents will be in the living room. They always put them in the living room." "What if they don't?" "Then we improvise." "I hate improvising." "You hate everything." "Not everything. I like sandwiches." "Bill, can we please stay on topic?" "Sorry. Continue." "You grab the presents, stuff them in the bag, out the window, into the van. Simple." "What about the kids?" "What about them?" "Won't they notice someone stealing their presents?" "They'll be in the backyard. Bouncy castle, remember?" Bill looked at the map again. "The tumor." "Castle." "Sure." "Any other questions?" "Yeah, actually. What kind of presents are we expecting here? Because if I'm risking prison for a bunch of Legos and finger paintings—" "The Pembertons are loaded, Bill. We're talking high-end electronics, gift cards, probably some jewelry from the grandparents." "Jewelry? For a six-year-old?" "Rich people are weird." "Fair point." Molly folded the map and checked her watch. "We move in twenty minutes. Get your head in the game." "My head is in the game. My conscience is just having a small tantrum." "Tell your conscience that Vince has a melon baller." Bill sighed heavily. "You know, when I imagined my life of crime, it involved more glamour." "Glamour is for people who don't owe money to loan sharks."