Page 4 of Just the Nicest Person

Andi would do it all over again if she had to. Standing up for what was right was more important than a paycheck.

Which was why she needed to find a way to put Victor behind bars.

The man was responsible for the deaths of at least nine people, and he’d gotten away with the crimes—all in a greedy effort to silence people who found out about his bribes to those in the oil industry. He was the reason she’d lost her license to practice law.

He had big money, power, and connections. All based in the oil business.

The problem was . . . Andi feared the man knew she was here.

If so, he would try to kill her too.

Just like he’d killed Stockton.

Her throat tightened at the thought, and she gripped the steering wheel more tightly.

Over the past couple of weeks, Andi couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. That someone had been in her apartment snooping around while she was out on the road.

Then her boss told her someone came into headquarters asking about her—but this person hadn’t left a name or a message.

Had her cover been blown?

Knots formed in her stomach at the thought.

These true crime podcasts, especially Craig’s, kept her going as she put in her miles. His show had been her sanity during the fifteen-hour truck runs from Fairbanks up to the oil fields in Prudhoe Bay.

Listening to his deep, soothing voice was like hearing an old friend tell her a story. Back in Austin, Andi had told her friends—coincidentally, people who no longer spoke to her—that if she died early, she wanted Craig to do her funeral.

Everyone would hang onto his every word.

Andi hit the button on her satellite radio again, hoping the podcast was back on and the interruption had just been a glitch. The silence already felt deafening.

Nothing came through.

This was so unlike Craig. Maybe her signal had gone down.

She sighed and glanced at the time. Only six p.m., but it was already dark.

The Land of the Midnight Sun, as they called it. Except in the winter when it was the Land of the Midday Moon. March wasn’t nearly as bad as December, however.

She glanced at the time on her dash. Only four more hours until she reached Fairbanks.

Andi had been waiting all week for this follow-up podcast episode so she could find out what Craig had discovered about Henrietta Blanco’s murder. Ever since Andi had heard the woman’s story, she’d been fascinated.

Just then, her radio crackled. “Frostbite, it’s Lockjaw. Do you copy?”

Ronnie Pitts, her boss at Windswept Transportation, came over the air. The guy reminded her of Kingpin with his shaved head, intimidating frame, and blunt way of speaking.

She grabbed the radio. “Affirmative, this is Frostbite.”

“What’s your 10-4?”

Andi gave him her current location.

“Whiteout conditions reported ahead. Back it down.”

Disappointment ran through her as she began to lower her speed. Although the drive was okay for now, whiteout conditions ahead meant she wouldn’t be making it back to Fairbanks anytime soon. It wouldn’t be safe.

“As soon as you can turn around, head to the trading post,” Lockjaw continued. “Simmy always has rooms available. It’s best you wait this one out.”

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