It was 04:15. I had just clocked out after a shift that included a multi-car pileup and a guy who thought he could pet a rattlesnake (spoiler: the snake disagreed). My brain was fried. I sat in my car in the parking garage, staring at the concrete wall, needing to be literally anywhere else. Somewhere cold. Somewhere with trees. Somewhere without beeping monitors.
Enter C.J. Box and the Wyoming mountains.
I’ve been bingeing the Joe Pickett series lately because, honestly, Joe is just a guy trying to do his job while everything goes to hell around him. As a nurse, I relate to that on a spiritual level. Nowhere to Run was my companion for the drive home this week, and let me tell you—it’s a trip.
The Voice of the West (With One Major Glitch)
David Chandler is Joe Pickett. I don't know what Chandler looks like, but in my head, he’s wearing a Stetson and looks tired. His voice has this gritty, soulful quality that just fits the landscape. He doesn't do that annoying thing some narrators do where they try too hard to sound like a "tough guy." He just sounds... weathered. Like he's seen some stuff.
(And considering the body count in these books, he definitely has.)
But—and this is a big "but"—we need to talk about the editing.
Look, I listen at 1.25x speed because I have places to be and sleep to catch. But even at that speed, the pauses between chapters in this audiobook are painfully long. The first time it happened, I literally tapped my dashboard. I thought my phone died. I thought my Bluetooth disconnected. I was about to pull over on the I-10 to fix it when suddenly Chandler started talking again.
It happens every. Single. Chapter. It’s dead air. In the ICU, silence usually means someone’s heart stopped. In an audiobook, it just means I think the app crashed. It pulled me out of the story every time, which is super frustrating because the story itself is actually really gripping.
High Altitude Tension
The plot? Solid. It starts with a female runner disappearing in the mountains, and Joe—being the Boy Scout that he is—can't let it go.
What I love about C.J. Box is that the violence feels heavy. It’s not cartoonish. When people get hurt in these books, they bleed. They limp. (Finally, an author who understands you don't just walk off a concussion.) The suspense in this one is tight. There were moments on my drive where I forgot I was exhausted. I was just gripping the steering wheel, waiting to see what was around the next bend in the trail.
There’s some political stuff in there—libertarian themes, government overreach, the usual Wyoming flavor. It’s not really my jam politically (I’m too busy trying to get insurance companies to approve life-saving meds to worry about some of this stuff), but it fits the characters. It feels authentic to the setting, so I give it a pass.
The Verdict
By the time I pulled into my driveway, the sun was starting to creep up. I sat there for an extra ten minutes—engine off, windows down—just to finish a chapter. Carlos came out to get the paper and gave me that look. The "are you crying or are you listening to a book?" look.
"It's the book," I told him. "And the allergies."
If you can get past the weirdly long pauses in the audio, this is a great ride. It’s perfect for decomposing after a high-stress job. Just... maybe don't listen to it if you're already paranoid about your car's Bluetooth connection. It'll drive you nuts.
