Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VVNE6D0GX3NE30YT17P2H

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of the van and anchored one corner with a juice box she'd stolen from a gas station. Bill leaned over it, squinting. "What am I looking at here?" Bill said. "The layout of the Henderson backyard. Party starts at two. We go in at two-fifteen, right when the sugar hits." "Why two-fifteen?" "Because that's when they do the bouncy castle, Bill. Every kid at that party will be in one concentrated area, jumping around like popcorn kernels, completely oblivious. That gives us a clean seven-minute window to hit the present table." Bill scratched his chin. "How many kids are we talking?" "Fourteen. Maybe fifteen if the Donovan twins show up, but word on the street is they've got pinkeye." "What street is giving you that information?" "Facebook. Keep up." Molly tapped the map with a pen she'd also stolen from the gas station. "Now, the presents will be stacked here, on a folding table near the back slider. I've done recon. These are wealthy parents, Bill. We're talking name-brand toys. LEGOs. American Girl dolls. One family is rumored to be bringing a microscope." "A microscope? What kind of kid wants a microscope?" "A nerd, Bill. That's not our problem. Our problem is the mother. Karen Henderson. She runs that house like a naval commander. She will have eyes everywhere." "So how do we get past her?" "We don't get past her. We go through her. You're going to walk up to the front door dressed as a clown." Bill stared at her for a long moment. "Absolutely not." "You said you'd do whatever it takes." "I said that about the casino job. This is a child's birthday party. There are limits to my dignity, Molly." "Your dignity? You cried during a car wash last week." "The brushes were very aggressive and that is not relevant." "You'll wear the clown suit. You'll do balloon animals. You'll keep Karen occupied at the front of the house while I slip in through the side gate and load the presents into the wagon." "A wagon?" "A Radio Flyer. Red. Classic. No one questions a woman pulling a wagon at a suburban birthday party. I'll look like a helpful aunt." Bill rubbed his temples slowly. "And what if one of the kids sees you?" "Kids don't notice adults, Bill. We're furniture to them. I could carry a flat-screen TV through a room full of eight-year-olds and they wouldn't look up from their tablets." "What about the dog? The Hendersons have a golden retriever." Molly reached into the van and produced a gallon zip-lock bag filled with bacon strips. "Taken care of." Bill looked at the map, then at the clown suit hanging in the back of the van, then at the sky as if asking some higher power for guidance. None came. "Fine," he said. "But I get the microscope." "Deal," Molly said, and they shook on it.