Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCPMNA5KD994SP5WV4PGAQC

Molly spread the crayon-drawn invitation across the hood of the van like a battlefield map. "Bounce house here," she said, tapping the paper. "Present table here. Thirty seconds, tops." Bill squinted. "Whose birthday is it?" "Does it matter?" "It matters to me. I've got standards." "You stole a defibrillator." "From a *gym*," Bill said. "Gyms are villains." He picked up the invitation and held it to the streetlight. "Tabitha. Turning seven. There's a glitter unicorn on this." "Which is why nobody will suspect a thing. Who robs a seven-year-old?" "We do, apparently." Molly pulled two clown noses from her jacket pocket and offered him one. He stared at it the way a man stares at a summons. "Absolutely not." "It's a costume party." "It's a *humiliation* party." "Bill. There is a Nintendo on that table. Wrapped. Untraceable." He took the nose. He put it on. He looked, Molly thought, deeply unwell. "Twenty-eight seconds," he muttered. "And I'm not eating cake." "You'll eat cake and you'll smile." "Why would I smile?" "Because," Molly said, sliding the van door open, "the loot's in the piñata too, and somebody's got to swing the bat."