PART 3 \u2014 WHAT FRANK LEFT BEHIND
\nFor a few seconds after Warren hung up, nobody in that little school room moved.
\nMicah still had the brass key pressed against his chest.
\nDana was crying without making a sound.
\nAnd all I could hear was my dead husband’s voice from twenty-eight years ago.
\nSomething got signed that should never have been signed.
\nI looked at Dana.
\n“How do you know that key?”
\nShe wiped her face quickly. “I don’t.”
\n“Don’t do that.”
\n“Do what?”
\n“Lie badly.”
\nHer eyes went to Micah.
\nThat was answer enough.
\nI held out my hand to him.
\n“Sweetheart, may I see it?”
\nHe put the key in my palm.
\nIt was heavier than it looked.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
41B.
\nThe numbers were written in Frank’s handwriting.
\nI knew because for thirty-one years that man wrote grocery lists like he was filling out government forms. His fours were always open at the top. His capital B leaned slightly backward.
\nThis was Frank’s key.
\nThere was no question.
\n“Where did you find it?”
\nMicah looked toward his mother again.
\n“Tell Grandma,” the counselor said softly.
\n“In Dad’s workbench.”
\nDana closed her eyes.
\n“Where?”
\n“Under the bottom drawer.”
\nMy stomach tightened.
\nKyle had Frank’s workbench.
\nOf course he did.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
After Frank died, I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore. Every hammer, every coffee stain, every pencil mark on the wood reminded me that a forty-six-year-old man had gone to work on Monday and been buried on Saturday.
\nKyle was nine when I gave it to him.
\nHe kept it through college, through two apartments, through his marriage to Dana, and eventually bolted it against the back wall of his garage.
\nAll these years, that key had been underneath it.
\n“How did you find it?” I asked.
\nMicah shrugged.
\n“My marble rolled under there.”
\n“What marble?”
\n“The blue one you gave me.”
\nI almost smiled.
\nOne blue marble had just undone twenty-eight years of silence.
\n“Micah,” Dana said, “you should have given that to Daddy.”
\nHis fingers wrapped around mine.
\n“No.”
\nDana stared at him.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Why not?”
\n“Because Dad said if he found it first, Grandma would never know.”
\nThe counselor slowly sat down.
\nDana looked like somebody had struck her.
\nI did not raise my voice.
\n“Take your phone out.”
\n“What?”
\n“Call Kyle.”
\n“No.”
\n“Then I will.”
\n“Linda, please.”
\nAgain.
\nNot Mom.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Linda.
\nThat told me we were done pretending this was family business.
\nI dialed my son.
\nHe answered on the second ring.
\n“Mom?”
\n“You know where I am.”
\nSilence.
\nI looked at Dana.
\n“Don’t you?”
\nAnother silence.
\nThen Kyle said, “Put Dana on.”
\n“No.”
\n“Mom.”
\n“Who is Warren Bell?”
\nThe line went so quiet I checked the screen.
\n“Kyle?”
\n“Go home.”
\nThere it was.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The same instruction Dana had given me.
\n“Why?”
\n“I’ll explain everything tonight.”
\n“You had since April.”
\n“Mom, listen to me\u2014”
\n“No. You listen. Micah found Frank’s key.”
\nDana covered her mouth.
\nKyle stopped breathing on the other end.
\nI heard it.
\nThen his voice changed.
\n“Where is it?”
\nNot What key?
\nNot I don’t know what you’re talking about.
\nWhere is it?
\n“In my hand.”
\n“Give it to Dana.”
\n“No.”
\n“Mom, you don’t understand.”
\n“I’ve been hearing that sentence from men for sixty-eight years. It has never once been followed by anything I was glad I waited to hear.”
\n“That key doesn’t belong to you.”
\n“It has your father’s handwriting on it.”
\n“Give it to Dana.”
\n“No.”
\nHis voice rose.
\n“Do not leave that school with it.”
\nMicah flinched.
\nI lowered the phone away from him.
\n“Why?”
\nKyle said nothing.
\n“Tell me what 41B is.”
\nStill nothing.
\nThen, very quietly, my son said, “A safe-deposit box.”
\nDana turned away.
\nThere it was.
\nNot a room.
\nNot a storage unit.
\nA bank box.
\n“Which bank?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“You’re lying.”
\n“I swear I don’t.”
\n“Then why do you want the key?”
\n“Because Warren wants it.”
\nThat surprised me.
\nI looked toward the window.
\n“Why is Warren talking to you?”
\n“Mom, this isn’t something we can do over the phone.”
\n“Then come here.”
\n“I can’t.”
\n“Why?”
\nA long pause.
\n“Because I’m at the bank.”
\nMy skin prickled.
\n“What bank?”
\nHe did not answer.
\n“Kyle.”
\nThen I heard another voice on his end.
\nA man’s voice.
\nMuffled.
\nBut unmistakable.
\nWarren.
\n“Don’t tell her.”
\nI stood up.
\n“You are with him.”
\n“Mom\u2014”
\n“You are standing beside Warren Bell right now.”
\nDana whispered, “Kyle…”
\nHe heard her.
\n“Dana, get the key.”
\n“No,” I said.
\n“Mom, please.”
\nI had never heard my son sound frightened of me before.
\nBut he wasn’t frightened of me.
\nHe was frightened of what I held.
\n“Which bank?”
\n“I can’t tell you.”
\n“Then I suppose I’ll find it myself.”
\n“Mom!”
\nI ended the call.
\nDana stared at me.
\n“You have no idea what you’ve just done.”
\n“No. But apparently everybody else does.”
\nMrs. Prill stepped forward.
\n“I think we need to involve law enforcement.”
\nDana spun toward her.
\n“No!”
\nToo fast.
\nToo loud.
\nEven Micah jumped.
\nDana caught herself.
\n“I mean… this is an old family matter. There’s no reason to frighten Micah.”
\nThe counselor’s expression hardened.
\n“A seven-year-old overheard adults discussing whether his grandmother knows something, concealed a key because he was afraid his father would take it, and a stranger has been asking school employees about his grandmother. This stopped being a private family matter.”
\nDana looked at me with something close to hatred.
\n“You did this.”
\n“No.”
\nI slipped the key into my bra.
\n“I showed up when the school called.”
\nThen I turned to Micah.
\n“Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you one question.”
\nHe nodded.
\n“What did you tell me in April?”
\nDana moved toward us.
\n“Don’t.”
\nBev stepped into her path.
\nI looked only at Micah.
\n“You asked me not to tell. I kept that promise. But if you want to tell it now, I’ll listen.”
\nHis face crumpled.
\nNot crying.
\nTrying not to.
\nThat is worse on a child.
\nHe whispered, “Dad goes downstairs at night.”
\nI felt the room tilt.
\n“What downstairs?”
\n“Our basement.”
\n“What does he do?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“That’s okay.”
\n“He has Grandpa’s boxes.”
\nMy throat tightened.
\n“What boxes?”
\n“The ones with your name on them.”
\nDana sat down hard.
\nI looked at her.
\n“My name?”
\nMicah nodded.
\n“I saw one open.”
\n“What was inside?”
\n“Pictures.”
\n“What pictures?”
\n“Of you.”
\nI waited.
\n“And Grandpa.”
\nAnother pause.
\n“And a house.”
\n“What house?”
\n“The old one.”
\nI knew immediately.
\nFrank’s childhood house on Mill Road.
\nAbandoned for years after his mother died.
\nSold, as far as I knew, before Kyle finished high school.
\nMicah reached into his backpack again.
\nDana stood.
\n“No.”
\nHe pulled out a folded piece of paper.
\n“I took this.”
\nHe handed it to me.
\nIt was a photocopy.
\nOld.
\nFaded.
\nA county property record.
\nI recognized the format because Frank used to bring similar forms home.
\nAt the top was an address.
\n814 Mill Road.
\nBelow that:
\nTRANSFER DATE: OCTOBER 14, 1998.
\nMy heart began pounding.
\nFrank died October 17, 1998.
\nThree days later.
\nI looked at the buyer’s name.
\nVOGEL HOLDINGS TRUST.
\n“What is that?” Mrs. Prill asked.
\n“I don’t know.”
\nBut my eyes had already dropped lower.
\nAUTHORIZED TRUSTEE:
\nLINDA M. VOGEL.
\nI sat down.
\n“I never signed this.”
\nDana looked at the floor.
\nI read it again.
\nMy name.
\nMy address.
\nMy supposed signature.
\nIt looked like mine.
\nBut it wasn’t.
\n“Somebody forged this.”
\nMicah whispered, “That’s what Grandpa said.”
\nEvery hair on my arms lifted.
\n“What?”
\n“Dad had a tape.”
\n“A tape?”
\n“He played it for the man.”
\n“What did Grandpa say?”
\nMicah squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember.
\n“He said… Linda didn’t sign it.”
\nNobody moved.
\nThen Micah added, “And he said if anything happened to him, the original was in forty-one.”
\nMy hand went instinctively to the key.
\n41B.
\nFrank had recorded himself.
\nFrank knew.
\nThree days before he died, a property was transferred into a trust under my name with a signature I never made.
\nAnd somewhere there was an original document he believed mattered enough to hide.
\nI looked at Dana.
\n“How long has Kyle known?”
\nShe shook her head.
\n“How long?”
\n“Two months.”
\n“Since June.”
\nHer eyes filled.
\n“Yes.”
\nThe phone call.
\nThe threat.
\nOfficial.
\nEverything had started after Kyle found the boxes.
\n“Why didn’t he tell me?”
\n“Because he thought he could fix it.”
\n“Fix what?”
\nDana laughed once.
\nA terrible little sound.
\n“You still don’t understand.”
\n“Then help me.”
\nShe looked at Micah.
\nThe counselor understood.
\n“Bev, would you take Micah to my office?”
\nMicah grabbed my sleeve.
\n“No.”
\n“It’s all right.”
\n“No, Grandma.”
\nI knelt beside him.
\n“I am not leaving this building without telling you.”
\n“You promise?”
\n“I promise.”
\nHe studied me.
\nChildren know when adults lie.
\nThen he nodded.
\nBev took his hand.
\nAt the door, he turned back.
\n“Grandma?”
\n“Yes?”
\n“The man said Grandpa wasn’t supposed to keep a copy.”
\nThen he left.
\nThe door closed.
\nI turned to Dana.
\n“Start talking.”
\nShe stared at her hands.
\n“Kyle found the boxes in May.”
\n“Where?”
\n“Behind the basement wall.”
\nI almost laughed.
\nFrank had hidden things in my son’s house?
\n“No. Kyle put them there.”
\nThat stopped me.
\n“What?”
\n“He found them in your attic.”
\nI stared at her.
\n“You were in my house?”
\n“Kyle was.”
\n“When?”
\n“When you went to your sister’s in April.”
\nSomething inside me went cold.
\nMy own son had entered my house while I was gone.
\n“He found them behind the insulation. Frank’s records. Property transfers. Bank statements. Cassette tapes.”
\n“Why was Kyle searching my attic?”
\nDana looked at me.
\n“Because Warren told him to.”
\nThere it was.
\n“Why?”
\n“Warren said Frank left something that could destroy the family.”
\nI leaned forward.
\n“Whose family?”
\nDana did not answer.
\n“Whose family, Dana?”
\n“Yours.”
\nI waited.
\nShe whispered, “And Warren’s.”
\nThe room was silent.
\n“What does that mean?”
\n“Warren and Frank weren’t just coworkers.”
\n“I know. They were friends.”
\n“No.”
\nShe looked up.
\n“They were partners.”
\n“In what?”
\n“Buying land.”
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n“Frank never bought land.”
\n“Yes, he did.”
\n“No.”
\n“Linda, there were twelve properties.”
\nI stared at her.
\n“Twelve?”
\n“Most were purchased through trusts. Some under Warren’s name. Some under Frank’s. One under yours.”
\n“I never owned property except my house.”
\n“You still do.”
\nI stopped breathing.
\nDana reached into her purse and took out her phone.
\nShe opened a photograph.
\nThen she slid it across the table.
\nIt was an aerial map.
\nA red outline surrounded a huge piece of land near the interstate.
\nI knew the area.
\nEverybody did.
\nFor years it had been fields and scrub trees.
\nNow there were warehouses, distribution centers, a hotel, and construction cranes.
\n“What am I looking at?”
\n“814 Mill Road.”
\nI looked closer.
\n“No.”
\n“Yes.”
\n“Frank’s mother’s house was five acres.”
\n“Originally.”
\nShe enlarged the image.
\n“The trust acquired adjoining parcels.”
\n“How much?”
\n“One hundred and eighty-six acres.”
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n“What is it worth?”
\nDana did not answer.
\n“How much?”
\n“Last appraisal?”
\nShe swallowed.
\n“Thirty-two million.”
\nI sat perfectly still.
\nMoney does strange things when the number gets large enough.
\nIt stops sounding like money.
\nIt becomes weather.
\nSomething happening around you that you cannot control.
\n“That isn’t mine.”
\n“Legally, the trust says it is.”
\n“I never signed anything.”
\n“That’s the problem.”
\n“What problem?”
\n“If your signature was forged, the entire chain of ownership can be challenged.”
\n“By whom?”
\n“Warren.”
\n“Why would Warren challenge it if he helped create it?”
\n“Because he claims Frank stole his share.”
\nI pushed the phone away.
\n“So Kyle thought hiding this from me would fix it?”
\n“No.”
\nDana’s voice cracked.
\n“Kyle thought if he found the original document before Warren did, he could prove which man was lying.”
\n“And you took Micah away from me because\u2014”
\n“Because Micah heard us talking.”
\nThere.
\nFinally.
\nThe truth.
\n“In April?”
\nDana nodded.
\n“What did he hear?”
\nShe looked toward the door.
\n“He heard Kyle say your signature was fake.”
\nMy chest tightened.
\nThat had been Micah’s secret.
\nNot monsters.
\nNot abuse.
\nNot some childish misunderstanding.
\nA seven-year-old had heard his father say somebody forged his grandmother’s name.
\nAnd he told me because he did not know what else to do with it.
\n“What else?”
\nDana whispered, “He heard Kyle say he didn’t believe Frank died of a heart attack.”
\nThe room disappeared around me.
\nI heard the refrigerator in my kitchen twenty-eight years ago.
\nFrank laughing the morning he died because I had burned toast.
\nThe hospital doctor saying massive cardiac event.
\nKyle asleep against my sister’s shoulder at the funeral.
\nWarren Bell standing at the back of the church.
\nThen gone.
\nI gripped the edge of the table.
\n“What did you say?”
\n“We didn’t know if it was true.”
\n“You kept my grandson from me because he told me that?”
\n“We were trying to keep him from saying more.”
\n“You punished a seven-year-old for hearing your secrets.”
\n“No.”
\n“That is exactly what you did.”
\n“We were scared.”
\n“So was he.”
\nDana started crying again.
\nThis time I felt no sympathy.
\nNot yet.
\nMaybe later.
\n“Why did Warren come to the school?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“Why is Kyle with him?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“Stop saying that.”
\n“I’m telling you the truth.”
\n“Try harder.”
\nHer phone rang.
\nKyle.
\nShe looked at me.
\n“Answer it.”
\nShe did.
\n“Kyle?”
\nI could hear my son shouting before she put it on speaker.
\n“Dana, where is Mom?”
\n“Still here.”
\n“Get out of the school.”
\n“Why?”
\n“Now.”
\nI leaned toward the phone.
\n“Kyle, what’s happening?”
\n“Mom, listen to me. Warren lied.”
\n“About what?”
\n“Everything.”
\nBehind his voice came an alarm.
\nA loud electronic beeping.
\nThen people shouting.
\n“Where are you?”
\n“The bank.”
\n“What happened?”
\n“The box is gone.”
\nI touched the key through my blouse.
\n“What do you mean gone?”
\n“41B is empty.”
\nDana whispered, “That’s impossible.”
\nKyle’s breathing was hard.
\n“Warren brought me here because he said Dad rented it under another name. We opened it.”
\n“With what key?”
\n“Bank override. He had the paperwork.”
\n“And?”
\n“Empty.”
\nI looked at the brass key.
\n“Then what does this key open?”
\n“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
\nA man’s voice shouted something near Kyle.
\nThen Warren came onto the line.
\n“Linda.”
\n“Where is my son?”
\n“He’s fine.”
\n“What does the key open?”
\n“Frank changed the box before he died.”
\n“To where?”
\n“I don’t know.”
\n“You expect me to believe that?”
\n“No.”
\nHis voice lowered.
\n“But I expect you to believe Frank.”
\n“What does that mean?”
\n“Go home.”
\nI almost laughed.
\nEverybody wanted me home today.
\n“Why?”
\n“Look inside the green cup.”
\nMy heart stopped.
\n“What?”
\n“The cup you used for Micah.”
\n“How do you know about that?”
\n“Frank knew someday you’d use it.”
\n“Frank died before Micah was born.”
\nWarren was silent.
\nThat silence was different from all the others.
\nThen he said, “Not that cup.”
\nThe line disconnected.
\nI stared at the phone.
\nNot that cup.
\nFor one second I could not understand.
\nThen I remembered something.
\nA green plastic camping cup.
\nFrank’s.
\nOld.
\nDark green.
\nHe used it for coffee when we went fishing.
\nAfter he died, I packed his camping things into a cardboard box and put them in the attic.
\nThe same attic Kyle had searched.
\nI stood.
\n“I’m going home.”
\nThe counselor stepped forward.
\n“Not alone.”
\n“I’m not asking permission.”
\n“Mrs. Vogel, someone entered your house while you were away.”
\n“I know.”
\n“And an unknown man has been approaching this school.”
\n“I know.”
\n“Then please don’t go there by yourself.”
\nShe was right.
\nI hated that she was right.
\nMrs. Prill called the police.
\nDana called Kyle again.
\nNo answer.
\nI called my sister.
\nAlso no answer.
\nThen I thought of Bev.
\n“You still have that pickup truck?”
\nShe blinked. “Since 2004.”
\n“Good.”
\nTwenty minutes later, two county deputies followed Bev’s truck down my road.
\nI sat in the passenger seat.
\nDana was behind us in her car.
\nMicah remained at the school with the counselor.
\nWhen we turned onto my street, I saw my front door.
\nOpen.
\nI had locked it.
\nOne deputy raised his hand and we stopped.
\nThey went in first.
\nFive minutes felt like an hour.
\nThen one came back.
\n“House is clear.”
\nI went inside.
\nNothing looked disturbed downstairs.
\nKitchen chairs straight.
\nMail on the counter.
\nLittle green cup in the cupboard.
\nMy little green cup.
\nMicah’s.
\nNot that cup.
\nI went upstairs.
\nThe attic door was open.
\nThe deputies followed.
\nBoxes had been pulled everywhere.
\nChristmas ornaments.
\nFrank’s fishing gear.
\nKyle’s old baseball trophies.
\nMy wedding dress.
\nThen I saw it.
\nA cardboard box marked CAMPING.
\nOpen.
\nI knelt.
\nLantern.
\nThermos.
\nMetal plates.
\nFrank’s old red tackle pouch.
\nAnd underneath it, wrapped in a dish towel, the dark green plastic cup.
\nMy hands shook as I lifted it.
\nSomething rattled inside.
\nI turned it over.
\nThe bottom looked thicker than I remembered.
\nI pressed my thumbnail against the rim.
\nA false base popped loose.
\nDana gasped.
\nInside was a tiny cassette tape.
\nAnd a folded strip of paper.
\nI opened the paper first.
\nFrank’s handwriting.
\nLINDA \u2014 IF WARREN COMES BACK, DON’T BELIEVE THE FIRST THING HE TELLS YOU.
\nBelow that:
\n41B IS NOT AT THE BANK.
\nTHE BANK IS THE DECOY.
\nI looked at Dana.
\nThen at the deputies.
\nThere was one final line.
\nTHE KEY OPENS THE LOCKER UNDER THE WATER TOWER.
\nMy knees nearly gave out.
\nThe water tower.
\nThe stop sign.
\nThe exact place where Micah had unbuckled in April and told me his secret.
\nOne deputy said, “Mrs. Vogel, do you know what locker he’s referring to?”
\n“No.”
\nBut Dana did.
\nI saw it immediately.
\n“Dana?”
\nShe backed away.
\n“No.”
\n“You know.”
\n“No, I don’t.”
\n“Dana.”
\nShe looked toward the stairs.
\nThen toward the window.
\nLike she was considering running.
\n“What is under the water tower?”
\nHer face collapsed.
\n“Kyle found it three weeks ago.”
\nI stared at her.
\n“What did he find?”
\n“A door.”
\nMy skin prickled.
\n“What kind of door?”
\n“Underground.”
\nThe deputy stepped closer.
\n“Where is your husband now?”
\nDana looked at her phone.
\n“I don’t know.”
\nThen my phone buzzed.
\nA text.
\nFrom Kyle.
\nOne photograph.
\nIt showed the base of the water tower.
\nA concrete hatch stood open in the weeds.
\nBeside it was Warren’s black SUV.
\nUnder the photograph, Kyle had written six words.
\nMOM, DO NOT COME HERE.
\nThen another message appeared.
\nHE KNOWS MICAH HAS THE REAL KEY.
\nI looked at Dana.
\n“Who knows?”
\nBefore she could answer, a third message arrived.
\nThis one was not from Kyle.
\nUnknown number.
\nA photograph loaded.
\nMicah.
\nStanding outside the school.
\nBeside a black SUV.
\nMy blood turned to ice.
\nUnderneath the picture was one sentence.
\nBRING FRANK’S KEY TO THE WATER TOWER.
\nDana screamed.
\nI was already dialing the school.
\nMrs. Prill answered.
\n“Linda?”
\n“Where is Micah?”
\nA pause.
\nThen shouting.
\nDoors.
\nRunning footsteps.
\n“Linda\u2014”
\n“WHERE IS MY GRANDSON?”
\n“He was with the counselor thirty seconds ago.”
\nMy hand began shaking.
\n“Find him.”
\nI could hear them searching.
\nThen Mrs. Prill came back.
\nHer voice was different.
\n“His backpack is here.”
\nI looked down at Frank’s green cup.
\nAt the cassette.
\nAt the note.
\nAt the key hidden against my body.
\nTwenty-eight years ago, my husband had hidden the truth because he believed somebody might come looking for it.
\nToday, they had.
\nAnd now they had my grandson.
\nBut there was one thing the person who sent that photograph did not understand.
\nMicah did not have the key.
\nI did.
\nAnd if somebody believed taking my grandson would make me obedient, they had made the same mistake my son had made when he took me off that pickup line.
\nThey thought losing access to Micah had made me weak.
\nThey had forgotten what six years of listening had taught me.
\nThat boy told me everything.
\nIncluding one last thing in April that I had never told anybody.
\nNot Kyle.
\nNot Dana.
\nNot the school.
\nNot even Micah knew I had understood what he meant.
\nAt the stop sign by the water tower, after telling me about the forged signature, he had leaned closer and whispered:
\n“Grandma, Grandpa left your name underground.”
\nAt the time, I thought he meant the papers Kyle had been discussing.
\nNow I knew better.
\nFrank had left something beneath that tower specifically for me.
\nAnd whoever had Micah was about to discover that my dead husband had been planning for this day longer than any of us knew………………<\/p>\n
PART 3 \u2014 WHAT FRANK LEFT BEHIND For a few seconds after Warren hung up, nobody in that little school room moved. Micah still had the brass key pressed against … <\/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-6205","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\/6205","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=6205"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6205\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6210,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6205\/revisions\/6210"}],"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=6205"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6205"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6205"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}