Girl Lost at Sea

Girl Lost at Sea An Ella Porter Mystery Thriller Book 4 Georgia Wagner Text Copyright © 2023 Georgia Wagner Publisher: Greenfield Press Ltd The right of Georgia Wagner to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 All rights reserved. The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. ‘Girl Lost at Sea’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and events or locations is entirely coincidental. Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Other Books by Georgia Wagner Other Books by Georgia Wagner Want to know more? About the Author Chapter 1 The young woman shivered near the crab pots, standing on the slick, metal deck, a gloved hand gripping the frigid railing as sea spray speckled her face. She shivered, her teeth chattering, her hood raised as another breaker wave splashed against the brow of Queen's Gambit—the king crabbing vessel. Caitlin Grimberg was new to the vessel. A greenhorn. And as such, it had been her job to tie the first row of crab pots. Three ties per pot. One to secure on either side; one to secure to the pots beneath. Now, she stood on the edge of the deck as the other crab fishermen moved about her. At only seventeen-years-of-age, Caitlin was the youngest person on the Queen's Gambit by far. A few of the rougher sailors would occasionally shoot glances at her that made her uncomfortable or offer snide remarks that she preferred to ignore. But no one was overt in their ogling or commentary. Her father was the captain of the crabbing vessel, after all. It had been his idea to get her this job. Always daddy's girl, she'd never balked at a challenge. Not when he'd signed her up for ice hockey nor when he'd placed her in advanced courses. And now... She was determined to see this through as well. She stood on the deck as another wave hit the prow. Water splashed over the railing, slick on the floor. Men in rain slickers and thick boots were wrangling one of the crab pots, dumping the large, twenty-pound crabs into the holding compartment. She watched as a crew member named Donavan swung a grappling hook over his head then launched it out into the sea. Even as another wave rocked the boat, the hook snared the trailing, red buoy marking where they'd left their row of crab pots. The tall stack of large cages, nearly twice the size of a golden retriever's kennel, tottered above her. She winced, staring, desperately counting the ties in her head. She didn't want to have to climb that twenty-foot pile of metal mesh again. She'd seen men break their arms managing the things. She'd heard of even worse. Now, as she stared up at the towering wall of metal pots, she felt a flicker of relief as the ties she'd secured kept them steady. No collapsing tower this trip. At least there was that comfort. “Hang on, Caitie!” called a voice behind her. She turned, holding a hand up to shield her eyes from the saline spray as a man with a white beard stumbled past her. His hand tapped her shoulder, roughly pushing her to the side as he hastened to help the crew pull the next crab pot up. Her father had never been gentle with her. But she watched, impressed as the seasoned captain maneuvered over the slick deck in the middle of the rolling Bering Sea with practiced ease, as if he were striding confidently across a dance floor. He reached the edge of the rail, flung out a large hand, and snared the edge of the pot as they pulled it, hoisting it to the deck with the rope from the hook the deckhand had thrown. The red buoy was pulled free, tossed to the side where the trailing rope couldn't tangle any legs. And then the men began to heave the pot. “Heavy one!” someone was shouting. “Gotta be at our limit now!” “Might be going home early boys, hoist away!” shouted her father. “Come on! Put some grease into it!” She watched, impressed as their muscles strained, and the men worked together to wrangle the pot onto the deck. She hesitated as they did, though, staring faintly, frowning. Crabs were spilling out of this pot. Strange, large, alien creatures with giant claws and armored shells. She couldn't hear them scuttling or clicking over the sound of the rolling seas, but she watched the way their tiny, elongated eyestalks shifted back and forth as they clambered over each other, trying to avoid the grasping hands of the crabbers as the prey were measured against measuring implements, determining if they were a permitted catch. Now, she glanced back over the opposite railing, looking away. She hadn't told her father—she couldn't imagine how that conversation might go—but she often felt sympathy for the crabs, as creepy and scary as they looked. As she looked away, not wanting to watch the capture of a new host of crabs, she peered into the sea. Briefly, as the