That made him laugh. “You’ve got quite a mouth. What do you want?”

“Why are you here?”

Goodson took an exaggerated look around himself, eyebrows raised. “Reasonable rates.”

“No,” Carrie said. “Why are you here? In Middleton. Why are you doing this?”

He smirked. “We’re just selling some candy. Do you have a problem with that?”

“People are getting hurt. You know that.”

“Hey, I can’t be held responsible if some kids get overzealous,” Goodson said. “They’re all subcontractors. Says so right on the papers they signed.”

“How can you afford this? You’re paying kids way too much money for candy.”

“Well, it’s really good candy.” Goodson reached into his room, and came out with one of the foil-wrapped bars. He peeled it open, and offered it to Carrie. “Here,” he said, voice taunting. “See for yourself.”

Every old saying about candy and strangers came to Carrie’s mind. Was it something in the chocolate? Was that actually it? If that was the case, what would happen if she did eat it? Would she go soft-headed too? Another zombie in the candy-bar army?

But she wanted to know. And she couldn’t stand the thought of backing down from this jagoff.

She took the bar, broke off a chunk, and popped it in her mouth. She chewed. Swallowed. Waited a moment.

Goodson smiled as if he’d won something.

Nothing happened. The world didn’t spin. She didn’t pass out. It was…just candy. Just cheap, ordinary chocolate. A little chalkier than your average Hershey bar.

“I don’t see what’s so special about it,” she said.

“Ah. You don’t taste the secret ingredient.”

“What’s that?”

He bent toward her. Carrie leaned a little closer, despite herself.

He stage-whispered one word: “Salesmanship.”

Carrie recoiled. “Seriously?”

“That’s it,” he said. “What makes America great.”

Carrie gave him her best withering stare. His whole face became a shit-eating grin, happy now. He thought he’d won.

“Why?” Carrie asked. “Why are you doing this? What do you possibly get out of it?”

His grin grew wider and he stood taller. Carrie honestly loved these moments. She’d been here before. And this was always when the guy decided he was smarter than some little girl. This was always the moment when they thought they were so far ahead that there was nothing they could do to screw it up.

This was that moment. He looked at Carrie like she was something that had been set down in front of him on a plate.

“I’m the collector. That’s all.”

Carrie had no idea what that meant.

Then she noticed something. When she met Goodson before, he wore long sleeves. Now, of course, he was almost naked. She could see he had a tattoo on one wrist. It instantly went into her mental database, along with everything else. A distinguishing mark for her files.