Page 15 of For the Love of Animals

“So remove any distractions and think through all the scenarios.” He got up and headed to the sofa, where he made himself comfortable with his feet up. “Close your eyes, querida.”

No way was I lying on his bed, but what about his other suggestion? None of the men I usually worked with wanted to see me succeed, but Nate’s offer of help seemed genuine. I shut my eyes, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands.

“Okay. What next?”

“Let’s start off with listing all the ways a man can die.”

“Shooting, stabbing, strangulation.”

“Slow down. Begin by considering more general terms. Broadly speaking, most manners of death can be split into four categories: natural, accidental, homicide, and suicide. Forget natural for now because that’s not why we’re here. Focus on homicide, although we get bonus points if we can make it look like an accident or suicide. Then break it down further into causes of death, and we’ve got five of those. Mechanical, chemical, electrical, thermal, and asphyxia. Asphyxia’s an interesting one, as it crosses over with the other four.”

So clinical. Despite my chosen career path, a shiver ran through me in the rented apartment, which now seemed far too cosy for its occupant.

“Okay, five ways to die.”

“Exactly. Our job is to understand all the different ways to cause death, then select the most appropriate method for Señor Lozano. Tell me about thermal trauma first. How would you cause a body to overheat?”

“A fire? Explosives?”

“Those are the obvious answers, although in a fire, the subject is more likely to succumb to asphyxia first. Now think deeper. The temperature of the human body is thirty-seven degrees Celcius. We only need to push it out of that comfort zone to achieve our objective. How about trapping someone in a sauna? Or a meat locker? Or a truck on a hot day?”

“You’ve done that?”

“I’ll neither confirm nor deny.”

“Aren’t you worried I might tell someone about this conversation?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“You know why.”

I did. Not only would I end my career by admitting I’d been associating with Nate in this way, I’d also be signing my own death warrant. And Lozano would still be alive. Plus—and I hated to admit it—I kind of liked Nate. Even though he was clearly the master here, he didn’t talk down to me the same way my colleagues did. One week before I was due back at work, and I could really learn something in that time.

Over the next three hours, Nate ran through the A to Z of assassination, and I did go and lie on his bed in the end because my head was spinning. Who knew there were so many ways to kill someone? Everything from radiation poisoning to a rapid, unplanned ascent while scuba diving that would explode a victim’s lungs. My brain was in danger of suffering a haemorrhage by the time he sat up from his spot on the sofa.

“Need a coffee?” he asked.

“I need a new job. Maybe I’ll retrain as an undertaker? Seems as though they’ll have plenty of work with you around.”

“Black or white? Sugar?”

“White, no sugar.” I got up to join him, stretching from side to side to work out the kinks in my back. “But now we’ve gone through all that, what about Lozano? How does that help us?”

“Next, we do another exercise—run through everything we know about him and compare notes. His daily routine, his associates, locations he’s likely to visit, his habits, anything that might help us. Tonight, you sleep on the discussion, and tomorrow, you mesh the target and the methodology together and come up with a plan.”

“Me?”

“Have you forgotten that afternoon we spent at the range?”

I hadn’t forgotten him taking his shirt off. Kind of wished I hadn’t stopped him from tossing the pants too. Shit. I was in trouble here, and not just because of Lozano.

“Right. I’ll come up with a plan.”

Nate handed me a mug of coffee, too hot to drink, but I clutched it in front of me like a shield. Anything to keep him from getting closer. Think, Carmen. Think.

“Lozano’s well known for his OCD,” I said. “Every morning, he gets up at six o’clock exactly and spends an hour in the gym. Then his chef prepares breakfast, but he hates for anyone to watch him eat, so he always dines alone. Do you think we could poison his food?”

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