Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TBSB0FZK4T8DCRM8MPGREQ

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the hood of the sedan, weighting the corners with juice boxes. "The bounce house is the weak point," she said. Bill squinted at her crayon diagram. "What about the clown?" "Ignore the clown." They'd cased the Henderson backyard for three days. Six-year-olds went down hard after cake—sugar crash by two, unconscious by two-thirty. The presents would be stacked by the patio table, unattended during the piñata frenzy. In and out in four minutes. Molly had mapped every sightline. Bill had bribed the ice cream truck driver to circle the block twice, creating a diversionary jingle. They'd even rented matching clown costumes as disguises, though Molly had warned Bill about his crippling fear of balloon animals. "Stay focused," she whispered. "No distractions." Bill nodded, eyeing the gift table through binoculars. A mountain of wrapping paper. Lego sets. A pony-shaped piñata that, frankly, offended him. "Go time," Molly said. They vaulted the fence. Somewhere inside, a child screamed with joy. Bill felt a pang of something—guilt, maybe, or just the gas station burrito—but pushed it down. Professionals didn't have feelings. Professionals had duffel bags. Then the birthday girl's mother spotted them, cake server in hand.