“Martha.”
\nFor a moment, I thought I had misheard him.
\nThe twelve-year-old boy’s voice came through Detective Ruiz’s phone thin and broken, but the name was unmistakable.
\nMartha.
\nNot Robert.
\nMartha.
\nThe woman sitting thirty yards away in a hospital consultation room.
\nThe woman who had begged us not to remove Eli’s cast.
\nThe woman who had told us there were children beneath her house as though she were terrified of what her husband had done.
\n“Jacob,” Ruiz said gently, “why are you afraid of Martha?”
\nSilence.
\n“Jacob?”
\nA paramedic spoke in the background.
\n“We need to move him.”
\n“Give me ten seconds.”
\nRuiz lowered her voice.
\n“Did Martha hurt you?”
\nJacob started breathing faster.
\n“No.”
\n“Did she hurt Eli?”
\nAnother silence.
\nThen:
\n“She chooses.”<\/p>\n
My hand tightened around the phone.
\n“Chooses what?” Ruiz asked.
\nBut Jacob wouldn’t answer.
\n“Jacob?”
\n“No more.”
\n“It’s okay.”
\n“No more questions.”
\nHis voice became frantic.
\n“Please don’t tell her I talked.”
\n“She can’t reach you.”
\n“Yes, she can.”
\n“Jacob\u2014”
\n“She always can.”
\nThen the line filled with movement.
\nParamedics.
\nA stretcher.
\nSomeone calling out a blood pressure.
\nRuiz came back to me.
\n“They’re transporting him.”
\n“To us?”
\n“Yes.”
\n“How bad?”
\n“Dehydrated. Malnourished. Multiple visible injuries. EMS thinks he’s been in that room for days.”
\n“Alone?”
\n“Apparently.”<\/p>\n
“What about the other children in the photograph?”
\n“No sign of them yet.”
\nMy eyes moved toward the consultation room.
\n“Does Martha know you found Jacob?”
\n“No.”
\n“Keep it that way.”
\n“I intend to.”
\nThe line went quiet.
\n“Sarah.”
\n“What?”
\n“Do not confront her.”
\n“I wasn’t planning to.”
\n“You’re a terrible liar.”
\nDespite everything, she almost sounded amused.
\n“She’s twenty yards from my patient.”
\n“Which is exactly why security stays with her and you stay away.”
\n“Understood.”
\n“Sarah.”
\n“I said understood.”
\nWe disconnected.
\nI turned around.
\nClara was standing behind me.
\nShe had heard enough.
\n“Jacob said Martha?”
\n“Yes.”
\n“What does ‘she chooses’ mean?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\nClara looked toward the consultation room.
\n“Do you believe her story about Robert?”
\n“Some of it.”
\n“Which part?”
\n“That she’s afraid.”
\n“Of him?”
\nI watched the closed door.<\/p>\n
“That’s the part I’m no longer sure about.”
\nBefore Clara could answer, Daniel emerged from surgery.
\nHis cap was still on.
\nThere were deep marks across his face from his mask.
\n“He’s in recovery.”
\nI immediately walked toward him.
\n“Hand?”
\n“Warm.”
\nI stopped.
\n“Warm?”
\n“Warmer.”
\nRelief hit me.
\n“Pulse?”
\n“Present.”
\n“Daniel\u2014”
\n“Don’t hug me.”
\nI hugged him.
\nHe sighed.
\n“I specifically said don’t.”
\n“You saved his hand.”
\n“For tonight.”
\nI stepped back.
\n“Infection?”
\n“Extensive. He’ll need more debridement, possibly several procedures. But the tissue responded after we restored circulation.”
\n“Can I see him?”
\n“When anesthesia clears him.”
\n“And the skeletal survey?”
\nDaniel’s expression changed.
\n“Come with me.”<\/p>\n
That was never a sentence doctors used before good news.
\nHe led Clara and me to a workstation.
\nImages filled the screen.
\nEli’s ribs.
\nWrists.
\nShoulders.
\nLegs.
\nDaniel pointed.
\n“Right forearm injuries you already know.”
\nHe moved to another image.
\n“Old left wrist fracture.”
\nAnother.
\n“Healed rib fractures.”
\nAnother.
\nThen he stopped at Eli’s lower leg.
\n“This.”
\nI leaned closer.
\nA faint line crossed the tibia.
\n“Another fracture?”
\n“Old. Healed.”
\n“How many total?”
\n“If we’re counting separate fracture events rather than individual bones?”
\n“Yes.”
\n“At least six.”
\nClara whispered something under her breath.
\nI stared at the screen.
\nSix.
\nSix separate injuries in a child who was only eight.
\n“Could some be normal childhood accidents?”
\n“Of course.”
\n“All of them?”
\nDaniel looked at me.
\n“You already know my answer.”
\nI did.
\n“What about the current arm?”
\n“The newest fractures are consistent with significant force.”
\n“A fall from a tree?”
\n“Possible mechanisms overlap. I’m not giving police certainty that imaging can’t provide.”
\nI nodded.
\n“Good.”
\n“But…”
\nHe enlarged the image.
\n“There are fractures on opposite sides of the forearm.”
\n“What does that suggest?”
\n“Again, I’m not assigning a mechanism from an X-ray alone.”
\nHe looked at me.
\n“But I would want a very detailed explanation.”
\nJacob’s voice returned in my head.
\nHe made me hold him.
\nBreaking Eli’s arm.
\nDaniel closed the images.
\n“There’s something else you need to see.”
\n“Another injury?”
\n“No.”
\nHe removed his gloves and reached into a clear evidence pouch.
\nInside was the blue plastic fragment recovered with the broken key.
\nB-17.
\nBRIARWOOD.
\n“You said this was part of a keychain.”
\n“That’s what we thought.”
\n“And now?”
\n“Evidence nurse cleaned it.”
\nHe rotated the bag.
\nThere were tiny white letters printed on the blue plastic.
\nMost were destroyed.
\nBut enough remained.
\n…COUNTY…
\n…YOUTH…
\n…SERV…
\nClara read it first.
\n“County Youth Services?”
\nMy stomach dropped.
\nDaniel nodded.
\n“We don’t know yet.”
\n“That key may have belonged to someone working with children.”
\n“Possibly.”
\n“Or someone pretending to.”
\n“Also possible.”
\nI took a photograph for the investigative record with permission, then sent the information to Ruiz.
\nHer reply came almost immediately.
\nDO NOT DISCUSS WITH MARTHA.
\nI typed:
\nI KNOW.
\nThree dots appeared.
\nThen:
\nI MEAN IT, DOCTOR.
\nClara looked over my shoulder.
\n“She knows you.”
\n“Apparently.”
\nA nurse approached.
\n“Dr. Jenkins? Eli’s waking up.”
\nEverything else disappeared.
\nI went to recovery.
\nThe lights were dimmer there.
\nEli lay beneath a warm blanket, oxygen tubing beneath his nose.
\nHis right arm was heavily dressed and elevated.
\nHis fingers were visible.
\nPink.
\nNot blue.
\nI hadn’t realized how badly I needed to see that color until that moment.
\nI pulled a chair beside him.
\n“Eli?”
\nHis eyelids fluttered.
\n“Hey.”
\nHe looked confused.
\nThen frightened.
\n“Where…”
\n“Hospital.”
\nHis eyes moved toward his arm.
\n“My hand?”
\n“Still there.”
\nHe stared at his fingers.
\nSlowly, painfully, his index finger moved.
\nBarely.
\nBut it moved.
\nHis eyes filled with tears.
\n“Did I do that?”
\n“You did.”
\nHe tried again.
\nA tiny movement.
\n“Does it hurt?”
\nHe nodded.
\n“We’ll help with that.”
\nHe looked around.
\nThen his expression changed.
\n“Where’s Mom?”
\n“She’s not in here.”
\nHis shoulders relaxed.
\nI waited.
\nNo interrogation.
\nNo pressure.
\nHe had just survived surgery.
\nBut after several seconds, he whispered:
\n“Did you find Jacob?”
\nI froze.
\n“Why are you asking about Jacob?”
\nHis eyes moved to mine.
\n“Because he was still there.”
\nMy pulse quickened.
\n“The police found him.”
\nEli started crying.
\nNot frightened tears this time.
\nRelief.
\n“He’s alive?”
\n“Yes.”
\n“Promise?”
\n“I promise.”
\nHis face crumpled.
\n“I thought…”
\nHe couldn’t finish.
\nI placed my hand gently over his good one.
\n“You don’t have to talk.”
\n“I left him.”
\n“You were sick.”
\n“I left him.”
\n“Eli, you were brought here barely conscious.”
\nHe shook his head.
\n“You don’t understand.”
\n“Then help me understand when you’re ready.”
\nHis eyes closed.
\nFor almost a minute, I thought he had fallen asleep.
\nThen he said:
\n“Jacob tried to stop her.”
\nMy heartbeat changed.
\n“Stop who?”
\nHe opened his eyes.
\n“Mom.”
\nJacob had been telling the truth.
\n“What did she do?”
\nEli’s breathing quickened.
\nI immediately backed away from the question.
\n“You don’t have to answer.”
\nHe looked at me.
\n“She’ll say Robert did everything.”
\nI said nothing.
\n“She always does.”
\n“Is Robert your stepfather?”
\nHe nodded.
\n“Did Robert hurt you?”
\nAnother nod.
\nThat mattered.
\nMartha wasn’t inventing Robert’s cruelty.
\nBut she wasn’t innocent either.
\n“Did your mother hurt you?”
\nEli stared at the blanket.
\n“Not like him.”
\n“What does that mean?”
\n“Robert gets mad.”
\nHe swallowed.
\n“Mom doesn’t.”
\nA colder kind of fear settled inside me.
\n“What does your mother do?”
\n“She decides.”
\nThe same word.
\nChooses.
\nDecides.
\n“What does she decide?”
\nEli looked toward the doorway.
\nI followed his gaze.
\nNobody was there.
\n“Eli?”
\n“Who’s good.”
\nI waited.
\n“And who’s bad.”
\n“What happens to the bad ones?”
\nHis lips trembled.
\n“They go downstairs.”
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n“To the room?”
\nHe nodded.
\n“Was Jacob downstairs because your mother decided he was bad?”
\nAnother nod.
\n“Why?”
\n“He tried to run.”
\n“From Robert?”
\n“From both.”
\nI sat very still.
\n“Eli, who are the other children?”
\nHis face changed.
\nI saw immediately that I had gone too far.
\n“You don’t have to tell me.”
\n“They’re not ours.”
\n“What do you mean?”
\nHe looked confused, as though the answer should have been obvious.
\n“They come.”
\n“From where?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“Do they live with you?”
\n“Sometimes.”
\n“Who brings them?”
\nHis mouth closed.
\n“Eli?”
\nHe turned his face away.
\nI stopped.
\n“Okay. No more questions.”
\nI pulled the blanket higher around him.
\nHe whispered:
\n“Can I have paper?”
\n“Now?”
\nHe nodded.
\n“To draw?”
\nAnother nod.
\nI found a clipboard and several sheets of paper.
\n“Crayons?”
\n“Pen.”
\nI gave him one.
\nHis right hand couldn’t hold it.
\nHe stared at his bandaged arm.
\nThen took the pen with his left.
\nSlowly, awkwardly, he began drawing.
\nFirst a rectangle.
\nThen a hallway.
\nThen doors.
\nLots of doors.
\nI watched quietly.
\n“This isn’t your house,” I said.
\nHe shook his head.
\n“Briarwood?”
\nThe pen stopped.
\nEli looked up at me.
\n“How do you know that?”
\nMy heart accelerated.
\n“We found part of the key.”
\nHis face drained of color.
\n“You shouldn’t have.”
\n“Why?”
\n“Because he’ll know.”
\n“Robert?”
\nEli didn’t answer.
\nHe returned to the drawing.
\nDoor after door appeared.
\nAt the end of the hallway, he drew a staircase.
\nThen another rectangle.
\nInside it, five small figures.
\nI recognized the room from the earlier picture.
\n“Is this where the photograph was taken?”
\nHe nodded.
\n“At Briarwood?”
\n“No.”
\nI frowned.
\n“Then what is Briarwood?”
\nEli drew a circle around one of the doors.
\n“Where they picked us.”
\nThe pen slipped from his fingers.
\nPicked us.
\nMy chest tightened.
\n“Who picked you?”
\nHe looked at me.
\n“Families.”
\nFor several seconds, I couldn’t make sense of the word.
\n“What families?”
\n“The ones who came.”
\n“To Briarwood?”
\nHe nodded.
\n“Why did they come?”
\nEli’s eyes filled with fear.
\n“To choose.”
\nThe word again.
\nChoose.
\nMy mind raced toward possibilities I didn’t want to believe without evidence.
\nI forced myself not to put words in his mouth.
\n“What did they choose?”
\nBut before Eli answered, a commotion erupted outside recovery.
\nA security guard shouted.
\n“Stop!”
\nI stood.
\nFootsteps pounded down the hallway.
\nThen Clara appeared.
\n“Sarah!”
\n“What happened?”
\n“It’s Martha.”
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n“What did she do?”
\n“She got away from the consultation room.”
\n“How?”
\n“She said she couldn’t breathe. One guard opened the door while the other called for a nurse. She shoved past them.”
\n“Where is she?”
\n“We don’t know.”
\nI looked at Eli.
\nHis face had gone white.
\n“Lock recovery.”
\nClara turned.
\n“Now!”
\nThe nurse hit the security control.
\nDoors locked.
\nI moved beside Eli.
\n“You’re safe.”
\nHe stared past me.
\n“She knows.”
\n“Knows what?”
\n“That I told.”
\n“She doesn’t.”
\n“Yes.”
\nHis breathing accelerated.
\n“She always knows.”
\n“Eli, listen to me. The doors are locked.”
\nHe shook his head.
\n“That doesn’t stop her.”
\nThen my phone buzzed.
\nUnknown number.
\nA text message.
\nI opened it.
\nYOU SHOULD HAVE LET HIM COME HOME.
\nMy blood went cold.
\nAnother message arrived.
\nNOW ROBERT KNOWS HE TALKED.
\nI showed Clara.
\n“Call Ruiz.”
\nShe grabbed her phone.
\nA third message appeared.
\nASK ELI WHAT HAPPENED TO NOAH.
\nI looked at the boy.
\nHis eyes were fixed on my screen.
\nHe had read it.
\nEvery bit of color disappeared from his face.
\n“No.”
\n“Eli?”
\n“No.”
\nHe pulled the blanket toward his chin.
\n“It’s okay.”
\n“No, no, no.”
\n“Who is Noah?”
\nEli began shaking.
\nI immediately regretted asking.
\n“You don’t have to tell me.”
\nBut he reached for my wrist.
\nHis grip was surprisingly strong.
\n“Don’t let them find him.”
\n“Find who?”
\n“Noah.”
\n“Is Noah one of the children?”
\nEli nodded.
\n“Where is he?”
\n“I can’t tell you.”
\n“Why?”
\n“Because Mom couldn’t find him either.”
\nMy heart started pounding.
\n“What do you mean?”
\nEli looked toward the locked doors.
\n“Noah got out.”
\n“Out of the room?”
\n“Out of everything.”
\n“When?”
\n“Before they broke my arm.”
\n“Where did he go?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“Is that why Robert hurt you?”
\nEli nodded.
\n“They thought you knew where Noah went?”
\nAnother nod.
\n“Did you?”
\nEli hesitated.
\nThen shook his head.
\nI wasn’t sure I believed him.
\nMy phone rang.
\nRuiz.
\nI answered immediately.
\n“Martha escaped.”
\n“I know. Hospital security is searching.”
\n“We’re locking down exits.”
\n“She texted me.”
\n“What?”
\nI read the messages.
\nRuiz went silent at Noah’s name.
\n“What’s wrong?”
\n“Sarah, don’t ask Eli anything else.”
\n“Why?”
\n“We found another photograph in the cellar.”
\n“Of Noah?”
\n“We don’t know.”
\n“Then what?”
\n“Robert.”
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n“Robert was in the photograph?”
\n“Yes.”
\n“With Martha?”
\n“No.”
\nRuiz paused.
\n“With someone we identified from the blue key tag.”
\nI gripped the phone.
\n“County Youth Services?”
\n“Former County Youth Services.”
\n“Who?”
\n“A caseworker named Helen Ward.”
\nThe name meant nothing to me.
\n“What does she have to do with Briarwood?”
\n“We’re still working that out.”
\n“Where is she now?”
\nRuiz didn’t answer.
\n“Elena?”
\n“Missing.”
\n“For how long?”
\n“Six years.”
\nSix years.
\nThe exact amount of time since the Briarwood Motor Lodge closed after the fire.
\n“Do police think she’s dead?”
\n“Nobody knows.”
\nI looked at Eli.
\nHe was staring at his drawing.
\n“There’s more,” Ruiz said.
\n“What?”
\n“Helen Ward disappeared while investigators were looking into irregularities involving children assigned to her caseload.”
\n“What kind of irregularities?”
\n“Records that didn’t match.”
\n“Didn’t match what?”
\n“Addresses. Foster placements. Emergency guardianships.”
\nMy stomach turned.
\n“Children?”
\n“Yes.”
\n“How many?”
\n“At least nine cases were questioned before the investigation stalled.”
\n“And Martha?”
\n“We haven’t found a professional connection yet.”
\n“What about Robert?”
\n“None officially.”
\n“Unofficially?”
\n“We’re working on it.”
\nI stared at Eli’s drawing.
\nFamilies came to choose.
\n“Elena…”
\n“I know what you’re thinking.”
\n“We don’t have evidence.”
\n“Exactly. So don’t jump ahead.”
\n“I’m not.”
\n“You are.”
\nI ignored that.
\n“Find Noah.”
\n“We’re trying.”
\nThe lights suddenly flickered.
\nOnce.
\nTwice.
\nThen the recovery unit went dark.
\nEmergency lighting activated almost instantly, bathing the hallway in dim illumination.
\nClara looked toward the ceiling.
\n“Generator should have switched immediately.”
\n“It did.”
\n“Then why did the security panel reset?”
\nI turned.
\nThe electronic lock beside the recovery doors was blinking.
\nRed.
\nGreen.
\nRed.
\nThen green.
\nThe doors clicked.
\nUnlocked.
\n“Clara, lock them manually.”
\nShe ran toward the entrance.
\nI turned back to Eli.
\nHis bed was empty.
\nFor one impossible second, my brain refused to understand what I was seeing.
\nThen I saw the blanket on the floor.
\n“Eli?”
\nNo answer.
\n“Eli!”
\nI ran around the bed.
\nHis IV line had been disconnected.
\nA tiny smear of blood crossed the sheet.
\nThe bathroom door stood open.
\nEmpty.
\nThe supply alcove.
\nEmpty.
\n“CLARA!”
\nShe came running.
\n“He’s gone.”
\n“What?”
\n“He’s gone!”
\nWe searched behind every curtain.
\nEvery bathroom.
\nEvery recovery bay.
\nNothing.
\nThen I saw his drawing on the floor.
\nThe paper had been turned over.
\nThere was writing on the back.
\nNot Eli’s shaky handwriting.
\nAdult handwriting.
\nBlack ink.
\nOne sentence.
\nHE WAS NEVER YOUR PATIENT TO SAVE.
\nClara stared at it.
\n“Oh my God.”
\nMy phone rang.
\nUnknown number.
\nI answered.
\n“Where is he?”
\nNo response.
\n“WHERE IS ELI?”
\nBreathing.
\nThen a woman’s voice.
\nCalm.
\nAlmost gentle.
\n“You doctors always think the mother is the monster.”
\n“Martha.”
\nShe laughed softly.
\n“You still haven’t figured it out.”
\n“Bring him back.”
\n“I don’t have him.”
\nI froze.
\n“What?”
\n“You heard me.”
\n“Then who does?”
\nA pause.
\nAnd when Martha spoke again, the fear in her voice sounded real.
\n“Robert.”
\nMy heart slammed against my ribs.
\n“How did Robert get into this hospital?”
\n“He didn’t.”
\n“What are you talking about?”
\n“Look at the cameras, Sarah.”
\nThe line disconnected.
\nI ran to security.
\nRuiz was already calling hospital command when we reached the surveillance room.
\n“Recovery unit,” I told the technician. “Last ten minutes.”
\nHe pulled up the footage.
\nWe watched.
\nLights flickered.
\nThe camera glitched.
\nStatic.
\nThree seconds disappeared.
\nThen the picture returned.
\nA person in hospital scrubs pushed a wheelchair through the service corridor.
\nEli sat in it beneath a blanket.
\n“Zoom in.”
\nThe technician enlarged the image.
\nThe person pushing him wore a surgical cap and mask.
\nFace almost completely hidden.
\n“Robert?” Clara whispered.
\n“I don’t know.”
\nThe figure turned toward the elevator.
\nFor half a second, his identification badge faced the camera.
\nThe technician froze the image.
\nZoomed.
\nThe photograph was too blurry.
\nBut the name wasn’t.
\nDR. DANIEL CHO.
\nNobody spoke.
\nI stared at the screen.
\n“That’s impossible.”
\nClara looked at me.
\nDaniel had been with us.
\nHe had operated on Eli.
\nHe had saved his hand.
\n“Call Daniel,” Ruiz ordered.
\nI did.
\nNo answer.
\nAgain.
\nNothing.
\nThen Clara whispered:
\n“Sarah…”
\n“What?”
\nShe pointed toward another security feed.
\nOperating-room corridor.
\nDaniel Cho was visible on camera.
\nStanding at a workstation.
\nAt the exact same time someone wearing his badge was wheeling Eli toward the service elevator.
\nThe technician placed both images side by side.
\nDaniel on the left.
\nThe masked stranger on the right.
\nTwo identical badges.
\nOne real.
\nOne copied.
\nRuiz leaned toward the monitor.
\n“Follow the wheelchair.”
\nCamera after camera.
\nService elevator.
\nBasement corridor.
\nLaundry.
\nLoading dock.
\nThen the figure disappeared through an employee exit.
\nExterior camera.
\nA dark SUV waited beside the curb.
\nThe rear door opened.
\nEli was lifted inside.
\nThe vehicle pulled away.
\n“License plate!” Ruiz shouted.
\nThe technician froze the frame.
\nZoomed.
\nRuiz read the number aloud to dispatch.
\nThen she stopped.
\n“What?”
\nShe stared at the database result on her phone.
\n“That vehicle was reported stolen.”
\n“When?”
\n“Tonight.”
\n“From where?”
\nRuiz looked at me.
\n“County Youth Services.”
\nThe room went silent.
\nThen Eli’s abandoned drawing came back into my mind.
\nBriarwood.
\nFamilies.
\nChoosing.
\nHelen Ward.
\nMissing children.
\nAnd the blue fragment attached to the key.
\nMaybe the past hadn’t disappeared six years ago.
\nMaybe it had simply changed uniforms.
\nMy phone buzzed.
\nAnother unknown message.
\nThis one contained a photograph.
\nEli.
\nAlive.
\nSitting in the back of the SUV.
\nHis hospital gown still visible beneath the blanket.
\nHis bandaged arm rested against his chest.
\nBehind him was a man.
\nOnly half his face appeared in the picture.
\nBut it matched Robert Harris’s driver’s-license photograph.
\nBeneath the image were six words:
\nBRING MARTHA TO BRIARWOOD. COME ALONE.
\nThen another message arrived.
\nNO POLICE.
\nA third followed immediately.
\nOR ASK HER WHAT SHE DID TO NOAH.
\nI stared at Robert’s face.
\nAnd for the first time, I understood that Martha escaping the hospital might not have been an escape at all.
\nMaybe she knew Robert was coming.
\nMaybe she was running from him.
\nOr maybe she had been running to find Noah before Robert did.
\nEither way, Eli was gone.
\nRobert had him.
\nAnd somewhere in the city was a missing child who apparently knew enough to make both of them terrified.
\nHis name was Noah.
\nAnd we had to find him first………………………………<\/p>\n
“Martha.” For a moment, I thought I had misheard him. The twelve-year-old boy’s voice came through Detective Ruiz’s phone thin and broken, but the name was unmistakable. Martha. Not Robert. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5539","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5539","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5539"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5539\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5542,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5539\/revisions\/5542"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5539"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5539"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5539"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}