"Mom, mom," Lincoln called quietly. He had done a lot of bad things in life but that had  gotten him nowhere near a dead body before. And to think his first dead body was to be his mother.

Lincoln did not walk into the apartment he lived in with his mother to see her lying down on the blood drenched rug at the center of the living room, no. He was just arguing with her which (wasn't new of course) when a bullet had passed through the window and found itself lodged in her forehead.

Lincoln wasn't dumb. Common sense told him she was dead. Dead! He couldn't bring himself to take action. It had been so sudden.

They were arguing.

A bullet broke through the window.

Lodged itself in his mother's head.

He turned his head slowly to the window. The only source of light. There was a small neat circle where the bullet had passed through. Versed in the ways of the town, Lincoln knew better than standing up and strolling leisurely to check out the window. He crawled out of sight of the window instead and peeped through the corner, trying to pinpoint where the sniper had shot from. There was not going to be much success from that. Ahead of him where just rows of apartment complexes all within sight of his mother's own. The shot could have come from anywhere.

A knock on the door sent Lincoln's heart leaping. The knock came again. He could not let that person in. There was no time to hide the body. Shit! How had he not thought of calling the police?

The knock came again. Lincoln realized his throat was too dry. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

"Hello? Lincoln, Maria." A voice from outside called. Lincoln recognized it. It was Nika, the new girl in the complex, room 33. She said she had just finished college and because she was scouting for jobs, her appearance in daytime was rare.

Lincoln had liked her at first sight. His loins had stirred quite nicely at the sight of her firm body, her one sided smile. Her lush black hair which she always packed in a ponytail. She didn't know that he had a juvenile record and Lincoln certainly did not intend to tell her until he had scored her at least one in bed. He also wasn't going to let her walk in on a dead body now. Innocent girl that she was, she'd pack her bags and flee and he would never see her again. But was he going to leave her hanging at the door?

He crawled to the door and leaned against it. "Uh…Nika," his voice was throaty and annoying. It should be deep and sexy. Nika should be having more effect on him, not the body of his dead mother.

"Is everything okay, I thought I heard a loud noise."

From two floors down in room 33? Weird. Lincoln let himself entertain the thought that Nika had been watching him closely just as he had been watching her. She was attracted to him too or else, why would she hear the gunshot and come all the way up the stairs to ask if everything was okay. Surely she did not think the sound she heard was a gunshot.

"Everything's fine," Lincoln said as he stared at his mother's body which seemed to be growing stiffer. "I… I thought you were out, looking for jobs?"

This was so damn inconvenient. She had caught him at his worse moment. There were three chains on the door. His hands absentmindedly worked them open as he imagined letting Nika in. Taking her to his room.

"I decided to take a break today. You should have given me a heads-up Lincoln. All bosses in Graywood are perverts. Have to find their way into a person's pants before hiring them."

Damn he wished he had given her the heads-up. He caught himself at the locked doorknob. The only barrier now between him and the woman he longed for. He would not let her in. It was for her own good too. He dropped his hands to his sides.

"I'm sorry. We… we uh… v' really never had the chance to chat. Just um… just the two of us."

He couldn't believe it. His voice was deep again. Why was he flirting with a woman outside the door when there was a dead one inside with him?

"Well that sucks. Maybe we can catch up as neighbors now. Let me in."

Shit. Nika must have heard the chains rattling. She must have thought he was opening the door to her, but he was only doing that in the imagination that had nearly slipped into reality.

Lincoln laughed nervously. "Maybe we can have a date tomorrow."

"Oh, that's too bad. I'd be too busy job hunting."

"We can meet in the evening."

"Oh no, sorry Lincoln, I'd be too tired." Lincoln thought he could hear the sadness in her voice. "Sure you can't let me in right now," she giggled, "is your living room messy?"

Shit. She had no idea how close she was to hitting home.

"That's no problem. The occasional times mine ever got messy would be worse than yours. Come on, is Maria in?"

Maria was his mother. Maria being in was not an excuse to turn Nika away. She would just think he was a momma's boy. Momma's boys were turn offs for most girls. Besides Nika and Maria were on first name basis. Nika would just insist on coming in to greet her.

"Uh, she's not in," Lincoln said quickly, feeling like shit for lying to her. For someone who wanted to impress a woman, he seemed to be doing all the wrong things.

"Strange, I thought I heard her biting your head off."

"That was uh… that was until she left."

For the other side.

"Oh," Nika let disappointment seep into her tone. "Well greet her for me then. Glad everything's okay. Gotta go."

Lincoln's heart sank. He wished Nika had insisted more. Damn that person who shot his mother. But then, Nika would not have come up. It was a shame. A real shame.

He crawled back to the window and let down the curtain. He doubted the killer was still there after all this time but to be on the safe side, while he brainstormed on his next move, the window's view must be shielded.

Lincoln let out a shaky sigh as he stared into his mother's open eyes. Wide, shocked yet she hadn't seen it coming.

He walked to the landline and dialed 911. No way he would be the main suspect. So what if he had no solid alibi? What if he was the only one in the room when she died? This wasn't those crazy movies where evidence was doctored. Surely he was being paranoid. He loved his mother. He might not have shown it in the best way but he loved her.

"911, what's your emergency?' Came a lazy drawl, "kindly state what the problem is, hello? … Hello?'

Something else took Lincoln's mind off the phone, not fear. The lock on the doorknob was turning, twisting. The lock which was the only thing separating Nika from him, because his hands had dreamily undid the chains. Lincoln had enough juvie experience to know what was happening.

"What the hell?" Was all he could muster before the door flew in.