Free Tempted by Fate by Kate Perry

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Chapter Eight

    R amirez stood on the street, futilely searching for a woman who had disappeared into thin air. Twice.
    He tugged his sleeves down and muttered. This was why cops turned to alcohol.
    He needed a soundboard to process what he’d witnessed. Not his grandmother—Lita would only go on about fate and facing destiny. He couldn’t go to his partner, because Taylor would make him visit the department shrink.
    Carrie Prescott. He could talk to Carrie.
    He pulled out his cell phone and called her.
    She answered on the first ring. “Do my eyes deceive me? It looks like my old friend Rick Ramirez is calling me, but that can’t be.”
    Hearing her light, sweet tone, he felt his mood lift. He could tell she wasn’t alone, the faint buzz of other people talking crackled over the line. “Why not?”
    “Because my old friend Rick Ramirez has been MIA for weeks, and to call me after midnight is uncharacteristic. Unless he suspects me of offing someone.”
    Smart-ass. “I need to talk to you.”
    “I figured. Max is out tonight, so I’m at the Pour House hanging out with Gabe. Come meet me here.”
    “Be there in ten.” He shut his phone, walked back to his car, and headed to the Pour House, a bar in the Mission, located a few blocks from his house. Not that he was in the habit of hanging out in bars, since he didn’t drink often. He’d seen too many of his colleagues destroy themselves with alcohol.
    The first time he’d stepped foot into the Pour House was during an investigation regarding a body found in an alleyway a few blocks away. He’d met Gabrielle Sansouci that day and had known instantly that she was hiding something.
    In the end, her brother, Paul Chin, had been implicated in that murder, as well as the murder of her ex-boyfriend. Ramirez didn’t know how Gabrielle was involved, but he had no doubt she was. Something was off about the crime scene, and she’d acted strangely. Her actions were similar to
Sophie’s.
    It stuck in his craw that he hadn’t even been able to bring in Gabrielle’s brother. According to sources, Paul Chin had fled to South America. Damn rich people. They thought money could buy their way out of anything. But one day he’d bring Chin in and make sure he was tucked away in prison, where he belonged, money or not.
    His gut told him Gabrielle was the key to bringing her brother in. Chin had to contact her eventually, and Ramirez would be there, ready, when Paul did. Ramirez had gotten in the habit of checking in at the bar. At first, it’d been solely to wait for Chin, but over time he’d developed a friendship with one of the other bartenders, CarrieWoods. Ironically, Carrie was Gabrielle’s best friend and had been involved in a strange death six months ago, as well. That death had been ruled natural.
    Ramirez grunted as he pulled into a parking spot. As if a woman’s blood solidifying in her body could be called natural. If he’d been in charge of the investigation, he wouldn’t have been so quick to rule out foul play, but it’d been out of his jurisdiction. Despite that, he trusted Carrie. He had the feeling he could tell her about the strange things he’d seen and she wouldn’t check his forehead for fever. Something told him she wasn’t a stranger to inexplicable occurrences.
    He walked into the bar’s mellow scene. A couple sat at a table, a trio of young men played pool on the worn table in the back, and there was an older man alone at one end of the bar. At the other end sat a familiar reddish-blond curly head, leaning on her elbows. She’d just married an incredibly rich and powerful man, but she wore her usual jeans and sneakers, although he could tell they were finer than what she used to wear.
    He walked to her and sat on the stool next to her, stealing a glance at the beverage in front of her. It was made to look like a gin and tonic, but it was probably soda water and lime. Even before she was pregnant Carrie hardly ever drank. “Sure you