Molly pressed the binoculars against the car window, watching a clown twist balloon animals on the front lawn. She lowered them slowly and turned to Bill. "There's at least thirty kids in there. Maybe forty. That's a lot of witnesses who can barely tie their own shoes." Bill scratched his chin and unfolded the hand-drawn map across the dashboard. He'd sketched it from memory after posing as a pizza delivery driver the week before. "The presents are stacked in the dining room. Floor to ceiling. I'm talking mountains of wrapped glory." "And the parents?" "Distracted. They've hired a magician for two o'clock. Once he starts pulling scarves out of places, every adult eye will be glued to the show." Molly tapped her finger against the steering wheel thoughtfully. The bounce house out back wheezed and swayed like a dying whale. "We go through the side door during the magic act. You carry the bags, I'll load them." "What about the birthday kid?" "What about him?" "He's turning seven, Molly. Seven. That's a rough age to learn about the cruelty of the world." She started the engine and smiled without a trace of mercy. "Character building."