Stopped Cold-- a mystery that's reminiscent of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys with suspense, first love, and spiritual talk.
Things aren't what they seem in peaceful Mistville, North Carolina.
Margaret McWhorter enjoys a
laid-back Freshman year in high school flirting with Jimmy Willmore, swimming
and hanging out with friends—until that
day. Her brother, Sean, suffers a stroke from taking a steroid. Now he’s
lying unconscious in a hospital. Margaret’s angry at her dad for pushing Sean
to be a great quarterback, but a fire of hatred burns inside her to make the
criminals pay. Looking for justice, she takes Jimmy and her best friend, Emily,
through a twisted, drug-filled sub-culture. A clue sends them deep into the
woods behind the school where they overhear drug dealers discuss Sean. Time and
time again they walk a treacherous path and come face to face with danger. Even
the cop on the case can’t stop them from investigating. All the while Margaret really
wants to cure Sean, heal the hate inside, and open her heart to love.
What people are saying:
Stopped Cold is filled with emotion, strong characters, teenage romance,
adventure, danger and the intricate workings of modern day high school studies
and sports. Larry Hammersley
This is a great read. I recommend it for teens or adults alike. It certainly
kept me turning the pages to see what would happen next when Margaret, Jimmy,
and their friend Emily go out looking to stop dangerous drug dealers. There's
plenty of action and emotion. Connie C.
...follow Margaret's journey to discover the depth of true character and faith not
only in school and friends, but family. Lisa J. Lickel
Excerpt:
Emily entered gasping for air as though she’d raced
inside.
Leaning against the windowsill, I looked toward Mom then Dad.
“Sean’s had a stroke.” Dad spoke in a monotone.
Every fiber of my being weakened as I doubled over to keep from falling then
sank onto the edge of the bed. I grasped the light blue spread and squeezed it
hard in my fist. He was fine earlier this morning.
“He’s only eighteen. How could that happen?”
Dad gestured with his large hand. “He came down the steps and collapsed in the
foyer.”
My stomach churned like a washing machine.
“We brought him to the emergency room. That’s the last we’ve seen of him.” Dad
had a blank stare in his grayish blue eyes.
A man wearing a white jacket entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Salis.” He shook my
parents’ hands. While standing in the middle of the floor he talked about Sean
as though he was delivering a speech or giving a weather report. “Sean’s stroke
was a mild one. I don’t believe he’ll have permanent damage, but he may need
therapy for his left arm.”
Anger, sorrow, and disbelief over Sean’s illness swirled in my head like a
tornado. How could this happen?
“Sean’s never had a health problem. He’s an athlete. What caused this?” Mom
asked.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but we found Winstrol V in Sean’s system.” A hint of
compassion rang in Dr. Salis’s official-sounding tone.
Mom’s gaze grew distant. “What’s that?”
“It’s an anabolic steroid used in veterinary medicine. It carries many adverse
side effects, including kidney and liver dysfunction. In some people there’s a
risk of heart attack or stroke.” Dr. Salis spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Why would anyone take it?” Mom’s questioning voice trailed off.
Dr. Salis took a deep sigh. “It enhances athletic performance.”
“In what way? I can’t imagine Sean taking something like that.” Mom spoke
softly as though she talked to herself.
Dr. Salis raised his gray eyebrows. “Steroids build muscle mass and shorten the
recovery time needed after strenuous workouts. Jocks who use them grow stronger
and can practice more often.”
Mom’s eyes snapped open.
Was she thinking of the pressure Dad put on Sean?
“I don’t feel well. Margaret, would you get me some water?” Dad asked.
He was as white as Mistville’s winter snow. So fit, so strong, he rarely got
sick, weak, or pale.
Anxious over the sight of him, I bounded off the bed, grabbed one of the paper
cups out of the dispenser beside the sink, and filled it.
He reached out for it then took a sip as I dropped down into a black vinyl
chair. Dad collected drops from the side of the container on his fingers then
wiped his forehead with them. Some color returned to his face.
“Where would Sean get steroids for animals?” Dad gazed at Mom with a helpless
stare.
How would she know? Nothing made any sense to me. Not the questions. Not the
answers. They were all scrambled in my brain like letters from a Scrabble game
that were scattered on a table.
Two uniformed policemen came in. Why were they here?
The older man with dark hair and brown eyes extended his right hand to Dad.
“I’m Sergeant Jones. This is Detective Joe Garrett.”
Dad knitted his brows. “What are you doing here? Has the hospital announced to
the world that my son’s in here because he took Winstrol V. What about the
patient’s privacy act?”
Sergeant Jones rested his hand at his side. “No. Of course, the hospital has
made no such announcement. There have been enough cases of kids checking in
with drug-related problems for us to suspect criminal activity. The privacy act
can be waived for the purposes of identifying certain classes of persons. In
this case, that would be drug dealers. With your help we want to catch these
people.”
Dad stared at the policemen with angry blue-gray eyes. “What can we do?”
“We need to know about Sean’s most recent activity, especially anything that
led to his drug use.”
How dare Sergeant Jones accuse Sean of being an addict! Sean was president of
the student council. He was a straight A student in one of the most difficult
schools in the country. He was a Christian. He--I couldn’t even think now, and
I couldn’t keep tears from rolling down my cheeks.
Dad got up and shook hands with the cops, but he didn’t smile. He looked like
someone had slapped him.
Gail's Web site:
http://www.gailpallotta.com
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