Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VZJ93SCBEM627Z7CD9NB0

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their dented minivan and anchored one corner with a juice box she'd stolen from a gas station. The map was done in crayon, mostly purple, because that was the only one Bill could find in the glove compartment. "Alright, the party starts at two," Molly said, tapping the crude rectangle that represented the Henderson house. "That gives us a forty-five-minute window while the kids are in the backyard doing the piñata." Bill squinted at the map and turned it upside down. "Why is there a dragon in the living room?" "That's the dog, Bill. Focus." "That dog does not look like a dragon in real life either, for the record." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. She had pulled off a flawless jewelry store robbery in Tucson with a partner who spoke no English, and yet somehow this man, who spoke English almost competently, was the greater challenge. "The presents will be on a table near the front door," she continued. "Standard birthday protocol. The parents always pile them up for the kid to open after cake. We go in through the side gate, through the garage, and into the foyer. Bag the gifts. Out in three minutes." "What kind of presents are we talking about?" Bill asked, folding his arms with the gravity of a man negotiating a arms deal. "Could be anything. Legos. Gift cards. Cash in a card from a grandmother who doesn't understand what children want." "I love grandma cash," Bill said, his eyes going soft and distant. "Everyone loves grandma cash. That's why we're doing this." Bill chewed his thumbnail and studied the map again. A school bus rumbled past and he flinched like a man who had been on the wrong side of a school bus before. "What about the clown?" he asked. Molly hesitated. This was the part of the plan she had been dreading. According to her surveillance, which had involved sitting in this same minivan for two afternoons pretending to be on a phone call, Mrs. Henderson had hired a clown. A real one, with shoes and everything. "We avoid the clown," she said firmly. "And if we can't avoid the clown?" "Then we improvise." "Last time you said improvise, I ended up in a koi pond." "You ended up near a koi pond. You chose to fall in." Bill looked unconvinced but pulled a black ski mask from his back pocket and examined it with the tenderness of a man reuniting with an old friend. Molly grabbed it from his hands and stuffed it back into his pocket. "No masks. We're going to blend in. I bought us both khakis and polo shirts. We look like parents." "I don't have kids." "You don't have to have kids to wear khakis, Bill." He considered this for a long moment, then nodded as though she had just revealed a profound truth about the universe. Molly rolled up the crayon map, finished the stolen juice box, and climbed into the driver's seat. They had presents to steal and a clown to avoid, and frankly she wasn't sure which worried her more.