Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GSNNAEXXCWK203NC0B9HN5

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table of their hideout, weighting the corners with a bag of frozen peas and a jar of pickles. The hideout was a rented storage unit with a card table in it, but she'd insisted on calling it the war room, and after three weeks Bill had stopped fighting her on it. The peas had been thawing and refreezing since Tuesday, a fact neither of them discussed. "Okay. Saturday. Four o'clock. The Hendersons' backyard." Bill squinted at the drawing, chewing the last bite of his sandwich. "This is a napkin with crayon on it." "It's a schematic. That's the bouncy castle. That's the snack table. The presents are here, on the gift table, right next to the piñata." Bill leaned closer, brushing crumbs off one corner. "Why is the piñata drawn with fangs?" "Because I respect it. That thing is load-bearing, Bill. It's got forty pounds of candy inside it and the structural integrity of a suspension bridge. We do NOT touch the piñata." "Fine. Entry point?" "I'm glad you asked." Molly tapped a spot near the fence. "We come in through the side gate during the magic show. Every kid at a magic show is contractually obligated to scream 'IT'S IN HIS POCKET' for eleven straight minutes. That's our window." "Eleven minutes?" "I timed it. Twice. I've been attending children's parties as an aunt to various children for six weeks now. I have credentials, Bill. I made a casserole for one of the mothers." "Okay, okay. What about parents?" "Two dads on lawn chair duty. One mom filming everything on her phone. And Grandma Marge, who is the real threat—she sits beside the gift table and she never blinks." "Never?" "I watched her for forty minutes once. Nothing. She's either a cyborg or she's lived through some things." Bill rubbed his jaw, studying the napkin again. "So what's the extraction?" Molly smiled and produced a second napkin from her jacket. She had clearly prepared this one in advance. It had been laminated. "The dog. The Hendersons have a golden retriever named Waffles. I befriended Waffles in week one—we're extremely close, that's not relevant—and the plan is, I attach the presents to Waffles' harness, and Waffles follows a trail of treats I've hidden out to the fence." Bill set his sandwich down entirely. "You're going to make a dog steal the presents." "The dog won't know it's stealing. Plausible deniability. Dogs can't be tried as adults." "And the kids just watch their presents walk away?" "Kids love dogs carrying things. It's basically their Super Bowl. They'll cheer, Bill. We'll get a standing ovation." Bill was quiet for a long moment. Outside, a car passed, headlights sweeping across the napkin. "What about the birthday boy? Timmy?" "Tommy." "Tommy. He just loses all his presents?" "He's turning six. He'll forget by cake time." "You put the cake on the napkin." Molly looked genuinely offended. "Of course I put the cake on the napkin. We take the presents, not the cake. What kind of monsters do you think we are?"