Run: 2026-09-23-01M36TGVKY5F8C044H4TDS7P24

Molly spread the floor plan across the scarred kitchen table and jabbed a finger at the basement. The Martin-Whitfield birthday party would be in full swing by two o'clock, and thirty-seven eight-year-olds would be too distracted by a magician named Gary to notice two adults walking off with every present under the moon bounce. "So that's the entrance," she said, tapping the back door. "What if the back door's locked?" Bill asked, leaning forward with both elbows on the plan. "Then we use the window." "What if the window's locked?" Molly stared at him. "Bill, what if you stop asking what if and start asking how do we get paid." He held up his hands. "I'm just doing my job. Logistics." "Your job," she said slowly, "is that you're surprisingly small, you can fit through a dog flap, and you're not on any federal watch lists." "That's a gift, not a job." "It's a job." She clicked a pen. "Here's the plan. I go in the front at one-thirty. I'm a friend of the mother's." "We don't know the mother's name." "Janet. Her name is Janet. I know this." "Since when?" "Since I've been planning this for two weeks while you were at the gym." Bill sat back. "I was at your wedding, Molly. I know how you plan things. You planned that wedding with a color-coded spreadsheet." "Exactly. And it was beautiful." "Half the flowers died." "The flowers are not the point." She cleared her throat. "Janet and I enter the house together. I'll have a gift bag, plausible deniability. You come around the side, crawl through the dog flap, and position yourself near the wrapping pile. When Gary does the disappearing trick—" "Gary's doing a disappearing trick?" "His website says he makes things disappear. Probably the dad." "That's a crime in itself." "When the kids are gathered for the magic show, I'll create a distraction. Something about a fire alarm, maybe. You grab every bag, every box, every envelope, and you move them to the station wagon." "Whose station wagon?" "Yours." "Ol' Rusty out by the tracks?" "That's the one. I've already put blankets in the back so it doesn't squeal when you load it up." Bill nodded slowly. "This is actually well thought out." "Don't sound so surprised." "I'm not surprised. I'm concerned. What if a kid cries?" "Then a kid cries. We're not stealing from children, Bill. We're stealing from their parents. The kids didn't pay for those presents. Janet did. Janet has a Yale ring and a rental house and a salary that could cover our winter." "She has a rental house?" "She's a venture capitalist." Bill exhaled through his nose. "Fine. What's the split?" "Seventy-thirty." "I do the crawling." "You also have the car. And the criminal record that makes me look trustworthy by comparison. Seventy-thirty is generous." He pointed at her. "Sixty-forty or I fall asleep on the job." "Sixty-five, thirty-five, and you buy dinner." "Done." Molly rolled up the floor plan and tucked it under her arm. The party started at two. Gary the magician had no idea what was about to vanish.