She opened her mouth. Then shut it. If their roles were reversed, she'd be asking the same shit, wouldn't she? She'd be getting defensive and hissy like a cat. She'd be puffing herself up.

And why was she doing it?

Maybe there was some subconscious shit happening. Her defying everything that she was expected to be. And defying the damn poison in her DNA.

Or maybe Anne and Bob just raised her right. All Midwestern kindness. Even dead.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Seemed like the right thing to do?"