SHE SAYS AMELIA WAS NOT THE ONLY CHILD THEY TOOK.
\nI couldn’t stop staring at my grandmother’s handwriting.
\nNot the only child.
\nThe words made everything that had happened that day suddenly feel small.
\nMy stolen identity.
\nThe forged documents.
\nThe motel.
\nGabriel.
\nDaniel.
\nAll of it had been horrifying enough when I believed I was the center of the story.
\nNow I understood something worse.
\nI might only have been one piece of it.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d I whispered.
\nDetective Bennett was already on the phone.
\n\u201cI need everything we have on Daniel Reed reopened. Missing children, identity fraud, interstate cases, anything connected to Gabriel Reed between 1995 and 2005.\u201d
\nShe listened.
\n\u201cNot tomorrow. Tonight.\u201d
\nShe hung up.
\nI pointed at the woman in the photograph.
\n\u201cAnd her?\u201d
\nBennett looked at Katherine.
\n\u201cDo you recognize her?\u201d
\nKatherine shook her head.
\nI did.
\nAt least, I thought I did.
\nThere had been one photograph of \u201cElena\u201d in my childhood.
\nOnly one.<\/p>\n
Gabriel kept it in a drawer instead of displaying it.
\nWhenever I asked why there weren’t more pictures of my mother, he gave me the same answer.
\n\u201cSome memories hurt too much to look at.\u201d
\nAs a child, I had thought that sounded romantic.
\nNow it sounded rehearsed.
\nI looked closer at the photograph from Rosa’s box.
\nSame dark hair.
\nSame narrow face.
\nSame small scar near the eyebrow.
\n\u201cThis is the woman Gabriel told me was my mother.\u201d
\nBennett leaned closer.
\n\u201cYou’re certain?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he tell you about her?\u201d
\n\u201cThat her name was Elena Reed. That she died in a car accident when I was little.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere?\u201d
\n\u201cI don’t know.\u201d
\n\u201cDate?\u201d
\n\u201cI don’t know.\u201d
\n\u201cMaiden name?\u201d
\n\u201cI don’t know.\u201d
\nEvery answer made me feel more foolish.
\nNot because I should have known.
\nBecause Gabriel had constructed my childhood so carefully that I had never realized how many basic questions had no answers.
\nBennett turned toward one of the forensic technicians.
\n\u201cRun the photograph.\u201d
\nThe technician scanned it.
\nThen we waited.<\/p>\n
Seven minutes later, the first result appeared.
\nThe woman’s name was not Elena.
\nIt was Rebecca Sloan.
\nShe had been reported missing in 2001.
\nTwo years after the photograph was taken.
\nMy skin went cold.
\n\u201cMissing?\u201d
\nBennett nodded.
\n\u201cTwenty-five years old. Last known residence in Ohio.\u201d
\n\u201cWas she ever found?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI stared at the woman again.
\n\u201cThen how did Gabriel have a photograph of her?\u201d
\nNobody needed to answer.
\nMy phone rang.
\nUNKNOWN NUMBER.
\nEveryone froze.
\nBennett motioned for silence.
\n\u201cAnswer it.\u201d
\nI put the phone on speaker.
\n\u201cHello?\u201d
\nNothing.
\nThen breathing.
\nSlow.
\nUneven.
\n\u201cHello?\u201d
\nA man’s voice finally spoke.
\n\u201cYou opened the box.\u201d
\nGabriel.
\nBennett immediately signaled to another officer.
\nI swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Rosa always loved theatrics.\u201d
\n\u201cYou mean evidence?\u201d
\nHe laughed quietly.
\n\u201cYou have no idea what you’re looking at.\u201d
\n\u201cThen explain it.\u201d
\n\u201cNot over the phone.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy? Afraid someone’s listening?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen:
\n\u201cYou always were smarter than Rosa gave you credit for.\u201d
\nMy anger exploded.
\n\u201cDon’t say her name.\u201d
\n\u201cYou think she saved you?\u201d
\n\u201cShe did.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Isabella. Rosa used you.\u201d
\n\u201cMy name is Amelia.\u201d
\nThe line went silent.
\nFor the first time, I had said it aloud.
\nAmelia.
\nNot as a missing child.
\nNot as someone in a newspaper article.
\nMe.
\nGabriel’s breathing changed.
\nWhen he spoke again, his voice was colder.
\n\u201cThat name belongs to a dead girl.\u201d
\n\u201cNo. You just spent twenty-three years hoping she was dead.\u201d
\nBennett looked at me sharply.
\nGabriel didn’t answer.
\nI pushed harder.
\n\u201cWho is Rebecca Sloan?\u201d
\nAnother silence.
\nThen he said:
\n\u201cWhere did you hear that name?\u201d
\nThat was all Bennett needed.
\nShe wrote on a notepad:
\nHE KNOWS HER.
\n\u201cShe’s in the photograph.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat photograph?\u201d
\n\u201cThe motel.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gabriel cursed under his breath.
\n\u201cDaniel kept that?\u201d
\nI looked at Bennett.
\nDaniel.
\nGabriel had assumed Daniel possessed the photograph.
\nInteresting.
\n\u201cIt wasn’t Daniel.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who?\u201d
\n\u201cGrandma.\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen Gabriel laughed.
\nBut there was no humor in it.
\n\u201cThat old woman.\u201d
\n\u201cShe beat you.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cShe documented you for twenty-three years.\u201d
\n\u201cYou think a few photographs prove anything?\u201d
\n\u201cWe have your voice on tape.\u201d
\nThat stopped him.
\nBennett shook her head at me, warning me not to reveal more.
\nToo late.
\n\u201cWhat tape?\u201d
\n\u201cThe one where Grandma asked where you got me.\u201d
\nGabriel said nothing.
\n\u201cAnd you answered.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did I say?\u201d
\nI closed my eyes.
\n\u201cShe is now. That’s what matters.\u201d
\nThe silence lasted so long I thought the call had disconnected.
\nThen Gabriel whispered:
\n\u201cYou shouldn’t have heard that.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause there are things children don’t need to know about their parents.\u201d
\n\u201cI am not your child.\u201d
\nHis voice changed instantly.
\n\u201cYou are my daughter.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cI raised you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou stole me.\u201d
\n\u201cI fed you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou stole me.\u201d
\n\u201cI protected you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou stole me.\u201d
\n\u201cFROM WHAT?\u201d
\nHis shout exploded through the speaker.
\nThen silence.
\nI stopped breathing.
\nBennett leaned closer.
\n\u201cWhat did you protect me from?\u201d
\nGabriel didn’t answer.
\n\u201cFrom what?\u201d
\nWhen he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.
\n\u201cYou think the Carter family were innocent?\u201d
\nMy heart tightened.
\n\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d
\n\u201cAsk your new friends.\u201d
\n\u201cGabriel\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cAsk them why Rosa waited twenty-three years.\u201d
\nThen the call disconnected.
\nBennett immediately turned toward an officer.
\n\u201cTrace?\u201d
\nHe shook his head.
\n\u201cBurner. Moving signal.\u201d
\nI looked at Bennett.
\n\u201cWhat did he mean about the Carters?\u201d
\n\u201cHe’s trying to destabilize you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou don’t know that.\u201d
\n\u201cWe know Gabriel lies.\u201d
\n\u201cSo did everyone else.\u201d
\nThat silenced the room.
\nGrandma had hidden things.
\nThe attorneys had hidden things.
\nInvestigators had hidden things.
\nMaybe for good reasons.
\nBut secrets were still secrets.
\nI looked at Bennett.
\n\u201cIs there something about my biological parents you’re not telling me?\u201d
\n\u201cNo evidence connects Margaret or Thomas Carter to your abduction.\u201d
\n\u201cThat wasn’t my question.\u201d
\nBennett studied me.
\nThen she answered.
\n\u201cThere were allegations surrounding Thomas Carter’s business twenty-five years ago. Financial disputes. Lawsuits. Nothing that explains your kidnapping.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat kind of disputes?\u201d
\n\u201cAmelia.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat kind?\u201d
\nBefore she could answer, her phone rang.
\nShe listened for less than thirty seconds.
\nThen her face changed.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nShe hung up.
\n\u201cOfficers reached Daniel’s house.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cHe’s gone.\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cHow long?\u201d
\n\u201cNeighbors saw him leave roughly an hour ago.\u201d
\n\u201cAfter Gabriel stole the notebook?\u201d
\n\u201cPossibly.\u201d
\n\u201cThen they’re together.\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe.\u201d
\nAnother officer entered the chapel.
\n\u201cDetective, we found something else in the grave container.\u201d
\nHe held a plastic evidence bag.
\nInside was a tiny brass key.
\nKatherine frowned.
\n\u201cThat wasn’t there when we opened it.\u201d
\n\u201cIt was beneath the interior lining.\u201d
\nThe key had a number engraved on it.
\n417.
\nBennett examined it.
\n\u201cSafe-deposit key?\u201d
\nKatherine shook her head.
\n\u201cNot one from First National.\u201d
\nI suddenly remembered something.
\n\u201cGrandma had a train station locker.\u201d
\nEveryone looked at me.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cWhen I was little, she used to take me downtown every December to see the Christmas decorations. We always passed through Union Station.\u201d
\nI could see it in my memory.
\nGrandma holding my hand.
\nThe smell of coffee.
\nAnnouncements echoing from the ceiling.
\nAnd one year, when I was maybe eight, she stopped near a row of lockers.
\nShe opened one.
\nI asked what was inside.
\nShe smiled.
\n\u201cSomething for a rainy day.\u201d
\nAt the time, I thought she meant an umbrella.
\n\u201cWhat number?\u201d Bennett asked.
\nI looked at the key.
\n\u201cI don’t remember.\u201d
\nBut Katherine did.
\nShe had opened another envelope.
\nOn the front Rosa had written:
\n417.
\nWe drove to Union Station under police escort.
\nThe original lockers had been removed years ago.
\nBut station management records showed that long-term secured storage boxes had been transferred to a private facility when the station was renovated.
\nLocker 417 still existed.
\nRosa had paid the storage fees twenty years in advance.
\nThe facility manager brought us downstairs.
\nConcrete walls.
\nFluorescent lights.
\nRows of metal compartments.
\n417 sat near the end.
\nBennett inserted the key.
\nClick.
\nInside was a red suitcase.
\nNothing else.
\nThe suitcase was old.
\nOne corner was torn.
\nA faded airline tag hung from the handle.
\nBennett carried it to an examination table.
\nForensic technicians photographed everything before opening it.
\nInside were children’s clothes.
\nA stuffed rabbit.
\nTwo passports.
\nSeveral Polaroids.
\nAnd a stack of newspaper clippings.
\nEvery clipping concerned a missing child.
\nNot me.
\nDifferent children.
\nDifferent states.
\nDifferent years.
\n1997.
\n1998.
\n1999.
\n2000.
\n2001.
\nSeven children.
\nI stared at their faces.
\n\u201cWere all of them taken?\u201d
\n\u201cWe don’t know.\u201d
\nKatherine lifted one of Rosa’s notes.
\nHer expression changed.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nShe handed it to Bennett.
\nThe note contained seven names.
\nBeside four were addresses.
\nBeside two was the word FOUND.
\nBeside one was:
\nDECEASED.
\nBeside another name, Rosa had written:
\nGABRIEL KNOWS WHERE HE IS.
\nHe.
\nI looked at the name.
\nJONAH SLOAN.
\nAge five.
\nMissing 2001.
\nSloan.
\nRebecca Sloan.
\n\u201cOh my God.\u201d
\nI grabbed Rebecca’s photograph.
\n\u201cShe had a son.\u201d
\nBennett immediately searched the old case file.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nRebecca Sloan and her five-year-old son Jonah disappeared six days apart.
\nRebecca vanished first.
\nJonah disappeared from a relative’s home less than a week later.
\nNeither had ever been found.
\nI looked at Rosa’s note again.
\nGABRIEL KNOWS WHERE HE IS.
\n\u201cWhat happened to Rebecca?\u201d
\nNobody answered.
\nWe kept searching the suitcase.
\nAt the bottom was another cassette.
\nNo date.
\nOnly two words.
\nREBECCA’S CALL.
\nBennett placed it in the player.
\nStatic.
\nThen Grandma Rosa’s voice.
\n\u201cRebecca?\u201d
\nA woman was crying.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere are you?\u201d
\n\u201cI can’t tell you.\u201d
\n\u201cAre you safe?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere’s the boy?\u201d
\nA sob.
\n\u201cThey took him.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\n\u201cGabriel and Daniel.\u201d
\nEvery person in the room became still.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cThey said they could give children new identities.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat children?\u201d
\n\u201cKids nobody would look for. Runaways. Children from bad homes. Sometimes children whose parents owed people money.\u201d
\nMy stomach turned.
\nRosa whispered:
\n\u201cAnd Amelia?\u201d
\nRebecca started crying harder.
\n\u201cAmelia wasn’t supposed to happen.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cShe saw Gabriel.\u201d
\n\u201cDoing what?\u201d
\nRebecca hesitated.
\nThen said:
\n\u201cShe saw him put another child into the car.\u201d
\nI felt the room tilt.
\nAmelia hadn’t been selected because of her trust.
\nNot originally.
\nI had witnessed something.
\nRebecca continued.
\n\u201cGabriel panicked. He took her too.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy didn’t he return her?\u201d
\n\u201cDaniel found out who her family was.\u201d
\nMy blood ran cold.
\n\u201cThe Carters?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d
\n\u201cThey realized she was worth more missing.\u201d
\nI closed my eyes.
\nThere it was.
\nThe truth.
\nI hadn’t been kidnapped for millions.
\nI had been kidnapped because four-year-old Amelia Carter saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.
\nThe money came later.
\nGreed turned a panicked crime into a twenty-three-year conspiracy.
\nOn the recording, Rosa asked:
\n\u201cWhere is Jonah?\u201d
\n\u201cI don’t know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou said Gabriel knows.\u201d
\n\u201cHe does.\u201d
\n\u201cRebecca, listen to me. Go to the police.\u201d
\n\u201cI can’t.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause they know where my sister lives.\u201d
\n\u201cThen come to me.\u201d
\nSilence.
\n\u201cRebecca?\u201d
\n\u201cI tried.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\n\u201cDaniel found me.\u201d
\nA sound came from the background.
\nRebecca gasped.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cThey’re here.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\nThe recording became chaotic.
\nA door slammed.
\nRebecca screamed.
\nThen a man’s voice could be heard in the distance.
\nWe couldn’t make out the words.
\nBut I recognized the voice.
\nDaniel.
\nThe call ended.
\nNobody spoke.
\nFinally, Bennett said:
\n\u201cThis may reopen multiple missing-person cases.\u201d
\nI stared at the seven children’s faces.
\n\u201cGrandma spent all those years investigating them too.\u201d
\nKatherine nodded.
\n\u201cShe wasn’t only trying to prove who you were.\u201d
\n\u201cShe was trying to find the others.\u201d
\nMy eyes filled with tears.
\nEven after everything Gabriel had done to her, Rosa hadn’t stopped at saving me.
\nShe had kept digging.
\nBecause somewhere there were other families waiting for children who never came home.
\nA forensic technician removed the lining from the suitcase.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s something underneath.\u201d
\nA large envelope had been taped to the bottom.
\nOn it Rosa had written:
\nFOR AMELIA.
\nNOT THE POLICE.
\nNOT THE ATTORNEYS.
\nAMELIA ONLY.
\nBennett looked at me.
\n\u201cIt’s your decision.\u201d
\nI opened it.
\nInside was a letter and a photograph.
\nThe photograph showed two children sitting together on a porch.
\nA little girl.
\nMe.
\nAnd a boy.
\nMaybe five years old.
\nI didn’t recognize him.
\nUntil I turned the photograph over.
\nRosa had written:
\nAMELIA AND JONAH.
\nAPRIL 1999.
\nMy heart stopped.
\n\u201cThat’s impossible.\u201d
\nJonah disappeared in 2001.
\nThis photograph was dated 1999.
\nTwo years earlier.
\nBennett frowned.
\n\u201cThat doesn’t match the official timeline.\u201d
\nI opened Rosa’s letter.
\nMy dearest Isabella,
\nThere is one thing I never told the investigators because I was afraid Gabriel would discover I knew.
\nYou did not arrive at my house alone.
\nThere was a boy with you.
\nYou called him Jo-Jo.
\nGabriel told me he was the son of a friend.
\nHe disappeared the next morning.
\nYears later, when I saw Jonah Sloan’s missing-person photograph, I recognized him.
\nBut the dates made no sense.
\nI tried to understand why.
\nEventually, I learned the truth.
\nJonah Sloan was not his original name either.
\nI stopped reading.
\nBennett leaned closer.
\n\u201cWhat else?\u201d
\nThere was one final paragraph.
\nIf you are reading this, find Jonah before Gabriel does.
\nHe is alive.
\nHe knows who you were before Gabriel changed your name.
\nAnd there is something else you must understand.
\nGabriel did not choose the name Isabella.
\nJonah did.
\nMy hands began trembling.
\nWhy would another kidnapped child name me?
\nThen my phone rang.
\nUNKNOWN NUMBER.
\nBennett signaled for everyone to remain silent.
\nI answered.
\n\u201cHello?\u201d
\nFor several seconds, nothing.
\nThen a man’s voice.
\nNot Gabriel.
\nNot Daniel.
\nA stranger.
\n\u201cIs this Isabella?\u201d
\nMy throat tightened.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nThe man exhaled shakily.
\n\u201cI’ve been waiting twenty-three years to hear your voice.\u201d
\nI looked at Bennett.
\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen:
\n\u201cYou used to call me Jo-Jo.\u201d
\nMy knees nearly gave out.
\n\u201cJonah?\u201d
\n\u201cMy name isn’t Jonah.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who are you?\u201d
\nHe ignored the question.
\n\u201cListen carefully. Gabriel knows Rosa found me.\u201d
\nBennett immediately began tracing the call.
\n\u201cWhere are you?\u201d
\n\u201cI can’t tell you.\u201d
\n\u201cAre you safe?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nThe same answer Rebecca had given Rosa twenty-five years earlier.
\nMy blood went cold.
\n\u201cWhat does Gabriel want from you?\u201d
\n\u201cHe doesn’t want anything from me.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why is he looking for you?\u201d
\nThe man began breathing faster.
\n\u201cBecause I remember what happened the night he took you.\u201d
\nI gripped the phone.
\n\u201cTell me.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were crying for your mother. Gabriel kept telling you to be quiet. Daniel wanted to leave you somewhere.\u201d
\nMy eyes burned.
\n\u201cBut Gabriel didn’t.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I stopped him.\u201d
\nI stared into the darkness beyond the storage room.
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\nThe man whispered:
\n\u201cI told Gabriel who your father was.\u201d
\nThomas Carter.
\nThat was how they discovered my family had money.
\nJonah had known.
\n\u201cBut how did a five-year-old boy know my father?\u201d
\nThe line went silent.
\n\u201cJonah?\u201d
\nWhen he answered, his voice broke.
\n\u201cBecause Thomas Carter was my father too.\u201d
\nNobody moved.
\nI couldn’t breathe.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cYou and I aren’t strangers, Amelia.\u201d
\nMy entire body went numb.
\n\u201cWe’re brother and sister.\u201d
\nThen a loud crash came through the phone.
\nJonah gasped.
\n\u201cJonah?\u201d
\n\u201cAmelia, listen to me.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\n\u201cThey found me.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\nFootsteps thundered somewhere on his end.
\nThen Jonah shouted the words that sent every officer in the room running.
\n\u201cDON’T LET GABRIEL GET TO OUR FATHER.\u201d
\nThe call cut off.
\nI stared at the dead phone.
\nBennett grabbed her radio.
\n\u201cTrace that call now!\u201d
\nAn officer shouted from the computer.
\n\u201cWe have a location!\u201d
\n\u201cWhere?\u201d
\nHe looked at the screen.
\nThen at me.
\nAnd his face went pale.
\n\u201cThe Carter residence.\u201d
\nMy biological parents’ house.
\nMy phone vibrated again.
\nThis time the message came from my biological father, Thomas Carter.
\nOnly four words.
\nAMELIA, PLEASE COME ALONE.
\nThen a photograph loaded beneath it.
\nThomas was sitting in his living room.
\nHis hands were tied behind the chair.
\nDaniel stood beside him.
\nAnd behind Daniel, holding a gun, was Gabriel.
\nBut Gabriel wasn’t looking at the camera.
\nHe was looking at someone kneeling on the floor.
\nJonah.
\nMy brother.
\nAnd beneath the photograph Gabriel had written:
\nROSA TOLD YOU HALF THE STORY.
\nCOME HEAR THE REST.
\nTHEN ASK THOMAS WHICH OF US REALLY STARTED THIS……………………………<\/p>\n
PART 4 \u2014 I WASN\u2019T THE ONLY CHILD THEY STOLE SHE SAYS AMELIA WAS NOT THE ONLY CHILD THEY TOOK. I couldn’t stop staring at my grandmother’s handwriting. Not the … <\/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-5563","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\/5563","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=5563"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5563\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5566,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5563\/revisions\/5566"}],"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=5563"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5563"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5563"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}