She remembered John Coffey's kind face more than anything, and that he'd called her Miss River. No one had ever called her that before. She could not remember what his mind was like, other than kind. The specifics were not there.
"I can't remember what his thoughts were like," River said. "I remember his kindness more than anything. And I don't like Stephen King's writing."
She sighed. Perhaps she should have learned to get past that and read more about the man who'd helped her.
... he would have died anyway...
"I just can't help but wonder what it is the City might be trying to stop me from knowing. Or hearing. Or doing."
That was the hard part.
Lestat, she suspected, was left alone because he was quite selfish in his actions. He knew a lot but said little. He was also, she knew, almost unkillable, so there was not much anyone could do to harm him.