The Glasgow Subway Murders

Contents Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58 THE GLASGOW SUBWAY MURDERSByWill Cameron The Glasgow Subway MurdersCopyright © 2023 Will CameronThe right of Will Cameron to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of a brief quotation in a book review.This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. For KarenEvery Moment of Every Day Chapter 1The Warmth of a Cold GlasgowCheryl Kerr walked out the side entrance of Glasgow Central Station and into the bustling crowds on Union Street like she was slotting into a conga line. It was the last Saturday of November 2008, but by the number of people in town, you would have thought it was the last Saturday before Christmas. Even the bitter wind wasn’t a deterrent, as it blew along the streets, reddening everyone’s faces, chilling their hands and feet.Cheryl, though, wasn’t aware of the cold. She was only aware of her luxurious, blissful happiness wrapped around her like her long green scarf. She now knew for certain Ryan was the one. Of course, deep down, she always knew Ryan was the one.Her blonde bob was topped with a black beret, pulled down at an angle over her forehead. She wore it with a style Claire Grogan would have been proud of. Among the crowds’ bobbing heads, she stood out for a fashion and beauty she effortlessly wore along with her beret, tight faded denim jeans, and ankle leather boots. With her modest canvas travel bag slung over her shoulder, her hands were plunged into a black and white checked coat which, like her beret, was more stylish than practical for this weather.Cheryl continued to shuffle along the pavement, trying to keep in step with those around her. With head bowed, she watched the heels of the woman in front trundle through the sludge with truncated steps. All the while, Cheryl could hear the city’s comforting blanket of familiar sounds around her— chatter, laughter, snippets of conversation in local and non-local accents.It was good to be home.Cheryl looked to her left to see silhouetted, immobile heads inside the steamed-up windows of a traffic-jammed, double-decker bus. On some windows were rubbed rough, small portholes of clearer glass by curious commuters inside. Suddenly realising the rare opportunity to cross the road, Cheryl seized the day and darted behind one car, in front of another, and then behind a double-decker bus like she was playing real-life Frogger. Now, she was in another slow-moving mass of people moving along the pavement, only this time on the other side of the road.Ryan. Beautiful Ryan. It wasn’t just that Ryan said he loved her. It was the way he said it. The way he looked into her eyes when he said it. She could actually see his love as well as feel it. It was like 3D love, you could say— all so real —absolute pure emotion.Delayed by cross-border snow, Cheryl’s train from Sheffield hadn’t arrived at Central until 4:10 pm. Now, with fast darkening sky, the shop windows on the left appeared to have a relatively brighter glow, bathing the Christmas crowds in a pale yellow light that gave the illusion of warmth.Ryan said he loved her.Once again, this thought banished away the cold as Cheryl passed people crammed in tight groups at a line of bus stops like penguins huddled together against the freezing wind.Different conversations drifted in and out of earshot. ‘What about Aunt Jean…’ ‘I’m no going in there, too expensive...’ ‘ma feet are freezing’ ‘I’m dying for ma tea…’ Cheryl loved her hometown. She loved Glasgow.Cheryl turned left when she reached Boots Corner, where Union Street met Argyle Street. She listened to the infinite noise of people being people, the rustling of voices and lives mixing with the echo of wet footfall and the grumbling of non-moving buses, cars, and taxi engines. Traffic on Argyle Street was as immobile as Renfield Street, and grateful for another traffic crossing opportunity, Cheryl skipped across to the other side of the road. She now walked hurriedly along the outside of the pavement, regularly stepping onto the road like she was Gene Kelly singing in the sludge. She was now making good progress towards her goal, St Enoch subway station.Suddenly Cheryl began to feel tired and was more aware of the sharp, piercing cold around her. The day's excitement was fast wearing off, and now she just couldn’t wait to get back to her flat in Bank Street. Thank God for the subway. A bus journey would have taken forever to get her back home. Even a taxi would have taken ages in this traffic. The subway was a real blessing at times. Before turning right towards the subway station entrance, Cheryl stopped and, glancing to her left, looked up Buchanan Street. In the dim light, she could still make out another mass of bobbling, bubbling people stretching all the way up to the Royal Concert Hall in the distance. Aye, returning to the warmth of a cold Glasgow was the perfect end to a perfect week.Cheryl passed under the curved subway arch, once again slotting into a line of people and feet moving onto the escalator. She heard constant chatter around her, but this time it was mixed with the escalator’s mechanical whirring, grind, and screech. Cheryl was aware at that moment that she was happier than