Hold My Hand: The addictive new crime thriller that you won’t be able to put down in 2018. M.J. Ford

just don’t understand why anyone would take Niall,’ said Mrs McDonagh. She dabbed her eyes. ‘He’s just a little boy. What do they want with him?’

      ‘And you have another son?’ said Jo.

      ‘Yes,’ said Mrs McDonagh. ‘Kieran’s fifteen. He’s not well – glandular fever.’

      ‘Want to bring me up to speed, boss?’ said Jo.

      ‘I’ve been over the basic facts as we know them,’ said Carrick. ‘It’s very early to form any conclusions, and at this stage our priority – all our resources – are simply focused on locating Niall.’

      ‘What resources are those?’ said Mr McDonagh, waving a hand at the door. ‘There’s a chap out there making tea looking like he’s about to start the Tour de France.’

      ‘Tony, they’re doing everything they can,’ said Mrs McDonagh. Mr McDonagh grunted and began to pace again.

      Jo leaned in, speaking softly. ‘I’m sure you’ve been over this already, but did Niall have any enemies?’

      ‘He’s eleven, detective,’ said Mr McDonagh. ‘When you have enemies at that age, they tend not to kidnap you.’

      ‘Darling, Detective Masters is just trying to help,’ said his wife.

      Jo felt Carrick watching her. She guessed he hadn’t mentioned the drug angle at all, but she wasn’t going to beat around the bush.

      ‘Did your son owe anyone money?’

      Anthony McDonagh snorted. ‘This has something to do with Arthur, doesn’t it? I knew it. Where is that little brat, anyway? Have you rung Simon and Penelope?’

      ‘They’re his parents?’ said Carrick.

      ‘Nominally,’ said Niall’s father. ‘Not that they do much actual parenting.’

      ‘Arthur Price is friends with your eldest?’ said Jo.

      ‘Despite our best efforts. We never should have let Niall go out.’

      ‘Is that something you would normally do?’ asked Jo.

      ‘What are you suggesting?’ said Mrs McDonagh. ‘That this is somehow our fault?’

      ‘Not at all,’ said Jo. ‘I’m just trying to get a feel for his lifestyle.’

      Anthony McDonagh reached over and laid a hand on the table, as if to placate the room.

      ‘We wouldn’t normally have allowed it,’ he said. ‘But we had a departmental dinner. We knew there would be some older, responsible children accompanying him.’

      ‘Like Arthur Price?’ said Carrick.

      Jo glanced at him, surprised he would press like that.

      ‘Has Arthur been in trouble before?’ asked Jo hurriedly.

      ‘He’s been expelled from two schools already,’ said Mrs McDonagh. ‘Drugs.’

       Now we’re getting somewhere.

      ‘We think there may be a drug connection to Niall’s disappearance,’ said Jo.

      ‘Well, slow down,’ said Mr McDonagh. ‘Niall isn’t into anything like that.’

      ‘Of course not,’ interrupted Carrick. ‘What we’re saying is that it may be he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

      And carrying the money, thought Jo.

      Mrs McDonagh scrunched the handkerchief more tightly. ‘Oh God. Will they hurt him? They won’t, will they?’

      Jo wasn’t sure what to say, but Carrick leant across the table and touched Niall’s mother’s hand.