I was unused to the baby's weight and my shoulders were already aching. The young man smiled back at him and handed the child to me. Hayden smiled and burped formula all over the diaper. I passed him a cloth diaper from the bag just in time. "And you need to have a diaper over your shoulder," he continued helpfully. I shifted the warm bundle cautiously, offering it to him. "I got a four-month-old," he added, to establish his credentials. "You need to hold him up a little," said one husky young man in the khaki of the sheriffs department. I passed the dreary time trying to resnap Hayden's sleeper, holding him, and trying to burp him, something I recollected you were supposed to do to babies after you fed them. They went into the study across the hall and didn't come out for ages. Martin was outside most of the time, but he came through the kitchen with Sheriff Padgett Lanier following close on his heels. After an hour or two of the county cops coming in and out, I was so exhausted, angry, and horrified that I could hardly put two words together, much less come up with coherent answers.
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