The metallic smell of blood in the small room that she was in was beginning to fade as the blood dried. She'd never been particularly claustrophobic, but with four days in the same room under her belt, Sandra was beginning to feel as if the walls were moving in on her. The cut that ran the length of her forehead, and was the source of the blood, was beginning to scab over and yet she felt no better. Pain was not something that Sandra Pullman felt, she'd always done a good job of blocking pain out, so that wasn't the issue. The issue was the growling noise that her stomach had decided to start making, it was the way her throat felt like someone was filing it with sandpaper, moreover the issue was the lack of control that she had in the situation.
She wasn't tied up, which eased things for her, but only a tiny amount. Regardless of whether she was tied up or not, the fact remained; she was trapped.
The room was small, like a box room in an already small house, however it was nicely decorated. The walls were a honey colour and the floor was a pale green carpet, in one corner there was a bed, which took up the majority of the room. On the other side of the room was a wardrobe, which Sandra had already established was empty. What surprised her was the presence of a window, what didn't surprise her was that all that was visible out of the window, was a landfill.
Occasionally the bolted door opened and a man appeared at the door bearing enough bread and water to keep her alive, but not much more. Through these meetings, she'd already established that she was the intended target of this kidnapping but bore a resemblance to whoever it was that this man did want. The man had informed her that she would be staying there until he had decided what he was going to do with her, she'd tried to argue, God knows that she'd tried and yet here she still was.
From inside, she could see the sun setting across the French countryside, well she'd assumed that she was in the countryside and still in France but realistically she had no idea where she was. Her captor spoke English but with a French accent and with her experience in policing she knew that people tended not to go too far out of their comfort zones.
She'd been a police officer for as long as she could remember, back in London. She'd been through lots of departments, rarely staying at any longer than 6 months before being promoted. That had been until she'd found a home at UCOS, the UCOS years had lasted for 10 years. Although nearer the end it wasn't the same UCOS that she knew and loved, it wasn't her baby anymore. That was when she moved on, she'd been debating it for a while and then when Max turned up and offered her a new life, she knew that it was fate. Well it would have been, had she believed in fate.
Life in France had been relatively uneventful and if she was honest, she was bored. Paris wasn't like London, perhaps most importantly, the people she loved from London weren't in Paris. Max was lovely, he was the stable partner that her mother always wanted for her but stable wasn't what she wanted. Sandra Pullman needed excitement in her life, and she wasn't getting it from Max. However, the situation she was now in, although it wasn't exciting in a positive way, it gave her a sense of thrill again and now she was craving it more and more, and in the shape of a certain Gerry Standing.
A/N This is my first fic so please be nice, let me know if I should carry this on though. I've loved for New Tricks for ages but have just found this site (I thought I was alone with my love for it before). I've noticed good stories on here getting ignored and frankly rubbish ones being reviewed a lot and it's not right, so although I'm new here, I'm setting out to change that.
Elen x