Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the sticky table of the diner, knocking over a ketchup bottle in the process. Bill caught it without looking up from his phone. "Put that thing away," Molly hissed. "We've got work to do." "I'm looking up the address." "I already have the address. It's 14 Maple Court. The Henderson kid's seventh birthday party. Saturday at two o'clock. Now focus." Bill tucked his phone into his jacket and squinted at the map. She had drawn it in crayon, which he found either deeply committed to the theme or genuinely concerning. "Why is everything in orange?" "It was the only crayon I had. Now look, the front door is here. The presents will be stacked on a table in the living room, which is here, right past the foyer." "How do you know where they'll put the presents?" "Because that's where everyone puts the presents, Bill. Have you never been to a birthday party?" "Not since I was nine. I got uninvited from Ricky Palmero's party for putting a frog in the punch bowl." "That tracks. Okay, so the party starts at two. The clown arrives at two-thirty." "There's a clown?" "There's always a clown." "I hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns. That's why the clown is our best friend in this scenario. When Bongo or Sparkles or whatever his name is starts making balloon animals, every kid in that house is going to be in the backyard. Every parent too. That's our window." "How long do we have?" "Fifteen minutes, tops. Twenty if the clown does a magic act." "And if he doesn't do a magic act?" "Then we move fast. You come in through the side door. I've already confirmed it doesn't have a deadbolt. You grab everything off the table, load it into the bags, and pass them to me through the kitchen window." "Why can't I go through the kitchen window?" "Because you got stuck in that doggy door last month, and I'm not going through that again." "That was a very small doggy door. They had a Chihuahua." "Bill, a Chihuahua got through it." "Chihuahuas are deceptively flexible." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose and took a long breath. "Side door. Grab presents. Pass through window. I load the van. We're gone before the clown finishes his second giraffe. Simple." "What if a kid sees me?" "You'll be wearing the caterer's uniform I lifted from that party supply place." "What if a kid asks me a question?" "Tell them you're getting more juice boxes." "What if they want a juice box?" "Then give them a juice box, Bill! There'll be juice boxes everywhere. It's a children's party." Bill leaned back and folded his arms, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You know what, Molly? This might be our cleanest job yet." "It's a seven-year-old's birthday party. If we can't pull this off, we deserve prison."