It was 1984 and people were doing crazy things to other people in the name of one thing or another, and Dabbie Hodson could see it clearly. She had but seconds to live. And just because she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She was helpless to do anything about it, but her eyes would be her weapon. They would remain open, probing, pleading, rebelling.
“I really don’t know that much.” She repeated this over and over, but seemingly on deaf ears, until she realized the terrible choice of words she had used. That much? What was that supposed to mean? How was he to take such a thing?
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