Run: 2026-09-23-01M37Q2QRFCC2C1D6B6PJ42DCZ

Bill spread the blueprints across the kitchen table, pinning one corner with a mug of cold tea and the other with a stapler shaped like a crocodile. The blueprints were, in fact, a birthday invitation. Glitter still clung to the edges like evidence. Beside it lay a roll of duct tape, two ski masks, and a party hat, which Bill insisted was for blending in. Molly squinted at the purple unicorn prancing across the card. "This is the target?" "Tiffany Halloway, age seven," Bill said, tapping the unicorn's horn with a pencil. "Twenty-two guests. Every one of them bringing a gift. That's twenty-two presents, Molly. Minimum." "Minimum?" "Grandparents," he said darkly. "Grandparents always overdo it." Molly sat, folding her arms. She had robbed a jewelry store in Lisbon and a museum annex in Prague. She had never robbed a seven-year-old. It felt like a step down, professionally, and possibly spiritually. "I stole a Fabergé egg once, Bill. Now I'm stealing from a first grader?" "Not stealing. Redistributing. She'll get more at Christmas." Bill produced a second sheet: a map of the Halloway backyard, rendered in crayon because the good pens were in the car and the car was in the shop. A green blob represented the lawn. A brown square represented the gift table. Bill had drawn a small stick figure of himself beside it, grinning, arms full. A red triangle, circled several times, was labeled simply DANGER. "What's the triangle?" "Bouncy castle." "Why is it dangerous?" "Because," Bill said, lowering his voice, "no one who goes in comes out the same." Molly waited for him to elaborate. He did not. He had pulled something in his lower back at a trampoline park last spring, and it still announced itself whenever it rained. Bill had been planning this for three weeks, which was two weeks and six days longer than he had planned the Prague job. "Here's the play," he said instead. "You go in as the hired magician, The Astonishing Marvella. Every kid follows you to the far end of the garden. I slip through the side gate as a delivery driver, fill the box, and we stroll out before anyone blinks." "Do you know any magic?" he added. "I can make a coin disappear." "Show me." She put a coin in her pocket. Bill nodded slowly, impressed despite himself. It was the same trick she had performed at her nephew's christening, to similar acclaim. Still, one detail troubled her. It had been nagging at her since he first slid the card across the table, a small itch at the back of her professional instincts. She picked up the invitation again and read the fine print beneath the unicorn's hooves, written in Mrs. Halloway's cheerful looping cursive. "Bill," Molly said. "It says here, 'In lieu of gifts, please consider a donation to the local animal shelter.'" Bill stared at the card. Then at the crayon map. Then at the crocodile stapler, as though it had betrayed him. "Well," he said at last, "that's just irresponsible parenting."