Molly pressed her face against the chain-link fence, watching the bouncy castle inflate like a colorful tumor on the Henderson lawn. Sixteen children ran in circles while a clown made balloon animals that looked more like abstract interpretations of despair. Bill crouched beside her, adjusting his fake mustache for the eleventh time. The disguise had been his idea. So had the matching pizza delivery uniforms, despite neither of them carrying any pizza. The presents sat unguarded on a folding table near the garage. Wrapped in shiny paper with cartoon dinosaurs and princesses, they practically glowed with potential. Molly counted at least twenty boxes, maybe more hidden behind that oversized gift bag. "The clown concerns me," Bill whispered. "Everything concerns you." She pulled out her notebook, sketching the yard layout with quick strokes. The parents clustered near the drinks table, already deep into what appeared to be sangria. Good. Distracted adults made everything easier. A child screamed somewhere in the bouncy castle. Then another. Soon the whole inflatable structure wobbled with the chaos of sugar-fueled six-year-olds. Bill flinched at each shriek. "We go during cake," Molly decided. "Why cake?" "Nobody watches anything during cake."