"I don't..." She'd heard him, she'd definitely heard him - and yet, strangely, it didn't seem to change anything. She stumbled back to the couch, put her head in her hands, and tried to fathom what he'd just admitted. Or rather, what she was feeling upon said admission. That was what was throwing her. She could understand Clyde doing... whatever it was he did, she wasn't sure, and she absolutely did not want to know the details. But even that wasn't the problem, because from the very first, she'd suspected he'd had something to do with Jack's death - she just didn't let herself think about it. But now that she knew for sure, she expected to feel angry, or perhaps even betrayed, but how could she? He hadn't gotten rid of anyone she cared about, and by eliminating Jack, he'd probably saved her life. How could she be angry with him for that?
"I don't care." Then, realizing he might not be able to hear her from the kitchen, she said it louder. "I don't care."