‘None!’
‘HOW MANY MORE? There was Adrian, wasn’t there? There was baby Emma. I dug her out of the ground myself. But I was too late. SO HOW MANY MORE?’
No answer comes.
But Madsen’s terror slips away. Control passes to him.
He stares up at Luther. In agony. And in defiance.
Luther surges with hate. It rises from in his feet. It spreads in his chest and shoulders like wings unfurling.
He reaches out a foot.
He hesitates.
He meets Madsen’s eyes.
Then he places his foot on Madsen’s fingers.
Madsen screams.
Luther presses down. He brings all his weight to bear.
And then he steps back.
Madsen’s hand slips.
There’s an insane flurry as he scrabbles for purchase.
Then falls into blackness.
Down he falls. Down and down.
Luther doesn’t see him hit the ground, but he hears it: a wet crunch; a long, chiming reverberation.
The strength leaves him. He staggers back to the walkway and sits. He dangles his feet over the edge.
He looks down. He can’t see Madsen’s body. But he looks down anyway.
He tries to think.
He’s still there, trying to think, when the police arrive.