Molly crouched behind the minivan and peered around the bumper at the bouncy castle in the backyard. "This is ridiculous," Bill whispered, adjusting his fake mustache. "We're really doing this?" "The intel is solid. That kid's parents are loaded. Those presents are worth at least five grand, maybe more." "It's a six-year-old's birthday party, Molly." "So what? You suddenly grow a conscience?" Molly pulled out her phone and scrolled through photos. "Look at this registry. A junior Tesla. An actual pony experience package. Jewelry for a child." "But there's a clown." "What?" "There's a clown in there. I can see him through the fence. You know how I feel about clowns." Molly grabbed Bill's collar. "We've stolen from museums, mansions, and that one time, a moving train. You're telling me a guy in face paint scares you?" "It's the shoes. Those shoes are unnatural." "Focus! Here's the plan. I'll go in through the side gate pretending to be someone's aunt. You create a distraction at the front." "What kind of distraction?" "I don't know. Sing Happy Birthday really loud. Release a dog. Use your imagination." Bill frowned. "Do I look like someone who has a dog in their pocket?" "You literally have lock picks in your sock. Figure it out." Molly checked her watch. "We've got a ten-minute window during cake time. That's when everyone will be inside." "Won't they notice a strange woman hauling bags of presents out the gate?" "That's why you're the distraction. Keep them busy for three minutes. That's all I need." "Three minutes with a clown." "Bill!" "Fine, fine. But if he makes balloon animals, I'm out." "Deal. Now give me your jacket." "Why?" "I need to look more mom-like. That leather screams criminal." Bill reluctantly handed over his jacket. "This is Italian leather. If you get cake on it, we're done." "We're stealing from a child's party. I think we crossed the line of moral superiority already." Molly shrugged on the jacket. "How do I look?" "Like someone who definitely doesn't belong at a kid's party." "Perfect. That describes literally every adult at these things." Molly started toward the gate, then turned back. "Remember, three minutes. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "Try not to punch the clown." "No promises." Molly disappeared around the corner. Bill took a deep breath, straightened his fake mustache, and wondered for the hundredth time why he ever became a thief. A child shrieked with laughter from the backyard. The clown honked a horn. Bill really hated his job sometimes. He pulled out his phone and found a dog barking sound effect. Close enough.