Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40CQ5RQ0VCT9TJH756QVS1

Rain ticked against the van roof while Molly unfolded a map of the neighborhood across the dashboard. It was decorated with coffee rings, ketchup stains, and one suspicious green crayon. Across the street, the community hall glowed with balloons. Through its windows, Molly could see a dozen children racing in circles while adults attempted to maintain order using paper plates. Bill peered through binoculars. “Target confirmed. Presents are stacked beneath the refreshment table.” “How many?” “Twenty-three boxes, three gift bags, and something wrapped in dinosaur paper that appears to be vibrating.” “Probably a toy.” “Or a dinosaur.” Molly tapped the map. “We enter through the side door, cross the kitchen, avoid the cake, and reach the presents in under four minutes.” “Why avoid the cake?” “Because last time you ate evidence.” “That cake was delicious evidence.” She ignored him and pointed to a red mark. “The host’s enormous dog patrols this corridor.” Bill nodded gravely. “Brutus.” “You remember his name?” “He remembers mine.” A shriek erupted from the hall, followed by applause. Someone had apparently won a game involving a spoon and an egg. Molly checked her watch. She wore black trousers, a black sweater, and a black wool hat with two glittery cat ears, because the only disguise available at the thrift shop had been labeled “dramatic feline.” Bill wore a janitor’s uniform, a fake mustache, and the expression of a man who had never successfully cleaned anything. “Ready?” Molly asked. “Absolutely. I’ve rehearsed my cover story.” “What is it?” “I’m here to inspect the cake for structural weaknesses.” “That isn’t a job.” “It should be.” They slipped from the van and hurried along the hedge. At the side entrance, Bill produced a ring of lock picks, selected one, and inserted it into the lock. The door opened immediately. Molly stared at him. “I was testing the lock,” he whispered. Inside, they crept past a stack of folding chairs. The kitchen smelled of frosting, fruit punch, and impending disaster. Molly raised one hand, signaling silence. Bill stepped backward onto a squeaky rubber duck. The duck announced his presence with a triumphant quack. From the corridor came the thunder of paws. “Brutus,” Molly breathed. “Tell him I’m with maintenance.” Brutus rounded the corner, a massive golden retriever wearing a party hat. He seized Bill’s fake mustache and trotted away with it. Bill followed, whispering, “That is professionally attached!” Molly reached the presents and began stuffing boxes into a laundry cart. The vibrating dinosaur package rumbled louder. “Leave that one,” Bill called. “It may be valuable.” “It may be alive!” Children’s voices approached. Molly shoved the last bag into the cart and kicked it toward the exit. Bill returned, panting, Brutus’s party hat balanced on his head. They burst through the side door just as the birthday crowd spilled into the hallway. Behind them, a child shouted, “The presents are escaping!” Molly sprinted toward the van. “Drive!” Bill jumped into the passenger seat. “You drive!” “I’m carrying the loot!” “You’re carrying two teddy bears!” “One is a decoy.” “It’s wearing sunglasses!” “Exactly.” The van lurched away, pursued by Brutus and several laughing children. In the back, the dinosaur package began to hatch.