Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCRAGDB585G4Q2SRQMATE0M

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of the van. It was, technically, a placemat from the Happy Panda Buffet. "Bounce house here," she said, tapping ketchup. "Cake table here. Presents stacked by the piñata, unguarded, roughly forty pounds of wrapped merchandise." Bill squinted. "Forty pounds? Bold estimate." "It's a seven-year-old. Her father owns three car dealerships." "So we're stealing from a child." "We're stealing from a child's *father*, who is insured." Bill unfolded a clown costume, holding it against himself like a bridesmaid dress. "And this is my cover?" "Kids love clowns." "Kids are *terrified* of clowns, Molly. Statistically. There are studies." "Then they'll scatter, and scattering is good for us." He sighed and stepped into the polka-dotted trousers. "What's your cover?" "Aunt Deborah." "Whose Aunt Deborah?" "Everyone's. Every party has one. Nobody questions her, nobody knows who invited her, she takes two slices of cake and leaves." Molly pulled a cardigan from the glovebox and shrugged it on with terrifying ease. "You've thought about this a disturbing amount." "I've been Aunt Deborah at eleven parties." Bill honked his nose, involuntarily, then looked betrayed by it. "Just remember," Molly said, "if anything goes wrong—" "Balloon animals." "Balloon animals," she agreed grimly.