Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VRZA4GJR0JHHP29QNDCQ4

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their rusted minivan, squinting at what appeared to be a crayon rendering of a bouncy castle. Bill leaned over her shoulder, breathing heavily through his mouth in a way that suggested both chronic sinusitis and deep concentration. The target was simple enough: a sixth birthday party for one Emma Fitzgerald, whose parents had more money than architectural taste. Intelligence gathered from the neighborhood Facebook group suggested a pile of presents worth several hundred dollars, minimum. There would be a magician at three o'clock, which meant every child would be distracted watching a man in a cape butcher card tricks. "We go in during the magic show," Molly whispered. Bill nodded, then frowned. "What about the dog?" The Fitzgeralds owned a golden retriever named Captain Biscuit who, according to surveillance conducted from behind a mailbox, loved absolutely everyone. This was both a blessing and a problem, since the animal would almost certainly follow them around demanding belly rubs and drawing attention. "Bring some treats," Molly said. "The good ones. Bacon flavor." Bill scribbled this on his palm with a dying ballpoint pen and smiled like a man who'd finally found his calling.