I was already starting my truck when Mr. Harris shouted through the phone, \u201cDaniel, listen to me. Do not go inside that house.\u201d
\n\u201cSomeone is searching Evelyn\u2019s bedroom.\u201d
\n\u201cExactly.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you expect me to sit here?\u201d
\n\u201cI expect you to stay alive.\u201d
\nI hung up.
\nMaybe that was stupid.
\nProbably.
\nBut twenty-five years of my life had been built on other people deciding what I was allowed to know.
\nMy mother had hidden the truth.
\nEvelyn had hidden the truth.
\nRichard had almost died trying to tell me the truth.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I was done waiting.
\nI drove toward Evelyn\u2019s house with the ledger hidden beneath the truck\u2019s spare tire.
\nRebecca stayed at the hospital with Richard.
\nThe doctors had taken him straight into surgery.
\nAlive.
\nBarely.
\nAs I drove, one thought kept repeating in my head.
\nPage 47.
\nEvelyn had it.
\nBut where?
\nI knew every room in that house.
\nOr at least I thought I did.
\nFor three years, I had lived there while secretly calculating what everything might someday be worth.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The antique dining table.
\nThe grandfather clock.
\nThe silverware.
\nThe house itself.
\nI had studied Evelyn\u2019s possessions like an appraiser.
\nAnd somehow I had never noticed the one thing that actually mattered.
\nWhen I turned onto Evelyn\u2019s street, police lights were flashing across the houses.
\nHer niece, Caroline, stood on the front lawn wrapped in a blanket.
\nThe moment she saw me, her expression hardened.
\n\u201cYou.\u201d
\nI stepped out.
\n\u201cAre you okay?\u201d
\n\u201cDo you care?\u201d
\nThat hurt more than I expected.
\nA week ago, I probably would have become defensive.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tonight, I couldn\u2019t.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nShe stared at me.
\nThen she looked away.
\n\u201cThe police said whoever broke in probably ran when I pulled into the driveway.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you see them?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did they take?\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s the strange part. Nothing that I can tell.\u201d
\nA police officer stepped onto the porch.
\n\u201cSir, you can\u2019t enter yet.\u201d
\n\u201cI lived here.\u201d
\nCaroline gave a bitter laugh.
\n\u201cUntil the will was read.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cI\u2019m not here for the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course you aren\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m looking for something Evelyn hid.\u201d
\nHer eyes narrowed.
\n\u201cMoney?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cA document.\u201d
\nSomething changed in her face.
\nSmall.
\nBut I saw it.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nI asked.
\n\u201cNothing.\u201d
\n\u201cCaroline.\u201d
\nShe folded her arms.
\n\u201cI said nothing.\u201d
\n\u201cYou know something.\u201d
\nShe stared at me for several seconds.
\nThen she whispered, \u201cAunt Evelyn told me you might come looking.\u201d
\nMy heart skipped.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cTwo months ago.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did she say?\u201d
\nCaroline glanced toward the police officer.
\nThen back at me.
\n\u201cShe told me that after she died, you might finally start asking the right questions.\u201d
\nI stepped closer.
\n\u201cWhat else?\u201d
\n\u201cShe gave me something.\u201d
\nMy pulse jumped.
\n\u201cPage 47?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what that means.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did she give you?\u201d
\nCaroline hesitated.
\n\u201cA music box.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cA music box?\u201d
\n\u201cShe said if you ever came here looking for something she hid, I should give it to you.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere is it?\u201d
\nCaroline\u2019s face went pale.
\n\u201cIn her bedroom.\u201d
\nWe both looked toward the house.
\nThe bedroom someone had just torn apart.
\nThe police finally cleared us to enter forty minutes later.
\nThe moment I walked through the front door, memories hit me.
\nEvelyn humming while cooking.
\nEvelyn asleep in her chair with a book on her chest.
\nEvelyn calling after me every morning.
\n\u201cDrive carefully, Daniel.\u201d
\nI used to roll my eyes.
\nNow I would have given anything to hear it once more.
\nHer bedroom was destroyed.
\nDrawers emptied.
\nMattress sliced open.
\nPictures pulled from the walls.
\nEven the backing had been ripped from framed photographs.
\nCaroline covered her mouth.
\n\u201cOh my God.\u201d
\nI walked toward Evelyn\u2019s dresser.
\nThe photograph of Thomas was gone.
\nThe one I had seen countless times.
\n\u201cThey took his picture.\u201d
\nCaroline frowned.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nThen she suddenly knelt.
\n\u201cThe music box.\u201d
\nShe reached beneath the overturned dresser.
\nA small wooden box was wedged against the wall.
\nShe pulled it free.
\n\u201cThank God.\u201d
\nIt was scratched, but intact.
\nCaroline handed it to me.
\nI opened the lid.
\nA tiny ballerina rose.
\nMusic began playing.
\nI recognized the melody.
\nEvelyn used to hum it while washing dishes.
\nInside were several pieces of jewelry.
\nNothing else.
\nCaroline sighed.
\n\u201cI thought there would be something inside.\u201d
\n\u201cThere is.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nI lifted the velvet lining.
\nNothing.
\nThen I remembered something Evelyn once said when I offered to repair that box.
\n\u201cNever fix what you don\u2019t understand, Daniel. Sometimes the broken part is doing exactly what it was designed to do.\u201d
\nAt the time, I thought she was joking.
\nNow I turned the box upside down.
\nFour tiny screws.
\nI removed them using a screwdriver from Evelyn\u2019s nightstand.
\nThe bottom panel lifted.
\nInside was a folded sheet of yellow paper.
\nCaroline gasped.
\nMy hands trembled.
\nAt the top was a number.
\n47.
\nI almost laughed.
\nAfter everything, it was actually there.
\nPage 47.
\nI unfolded it.
\nAccount numbers.
\nTransfer dates.
\nAmounts.
\nBut none of that mattered.
\nAt the bottom were three signatures.
\nRichard Vale.
\nThomas Whitmore.
\nAnd a third name.
\nI stared at it.
\n\u201cWho is Charles Mercer?\u201d
\nCaroline\u2019s face drained of color.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nShe looked at me like I had just asked who the president was.
\n\u201cCharles Mercer founded Whitmore Industries with Thomas.\u201d
\n\u201cSo?\u201d
\n\u201cSo he\u2019s Aunt Evelyn\u2019s brother.\u201d
\nI stopped breathing.
\n\u201cHer brother?\u201d
\nCaroline nodded.
\n\u201cMy father.\u201d
\nThe room went silent.
\nI looked back at the signature.
\nCharles Mercer.
\nEvelyn\u2019s brother.
\nCaroline\u2019s father.
\nThe man was still alive.
\nI had met him.
\nOnce.
\nAt my wedding.
\nHe had refused to shake my hand.
\nHe told Evelyn marrying me was humiliating.
\nI thought he hated me because I was young and poor.
\nMaybe there had been another reason.
\n\u201cWhat does this prove?\u201d
\nCaroline asked.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know yet.\u201d
\nI photographed the page with my phone.
\nThen I noticed handwriting along the edge.
\nThomas\u2019s handwriting, maybe.
\nC.M. AUTHORIZED ALL TRANSFERS.
\nR.V. FOLLOWED ORDERS.
\nIF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, LOOK AT PROJECT HAVEN.
\nCaroline read over my shoulder.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s Project Haven?\u201d
\n\u201cNo idea.\u201d
\nThen a voice came from the doorway.
\n\u201cI do.\u201d
\nWe both spun around.
\nMr. Harris stood there.
\nI hadn\u2019t heard him enter.
\nHis face looked exhausted.
\n\u201cHow did you know I was here?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I knew you wouldn\u2019t listen.\u201d
\nHe looked at the paper.
\nThen closed his eyes.
\n\u201cSo Evelyn kept it.\u201d
\n\u201cYou knew?\u201d
\n\u201cI suspected.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat is Project Haven?\u201d
\nMr. Harris walked into the room and shut the door.
\n\u201cBefore I answer that, you need to understand something about Evelyn.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat now?\u201d
\n\u201cShe wasn\u2019t just Thomas\u2019s wife.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Daniel. You don\u2019t.\u201d
\nHe sat on the edge of the damaged bed.
\n\u201cIn the early years, Evelyn helped run Whitmore Industries.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cShe never told me that.\u201d
\n\u201cShe handled charitable projects and employee housing.\u201d
\nHe pointed at the page.
\n\u201cProject Haven was supposed to build affordable homes for factory workers.\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cSupposed to?\u201d
\n\u201cMillions were allocated.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cMost of the homes were never built.\u201d
\nCaroline whispered, \u201cThe money was stolen.\u201d
\nMr. Harris nodded.
\n\u201cThrough shell companies.\u201d
\n\u201cControlled by Charles?\u201d
\n\u201cThat was Thomas\u2019s suspicion.\u201d
\nI looked at Caroline.
\nShe looked sick.
\n\u201cMy father wouldn\u2019t\u2014\u201d
\nMr. Harris interrupted gently.
\n\u201cI\u2019m telling you what Thomas believed. Not what has been proven.\u201d
\nThat mattered.
\nWe had one torn page.
\nA signature.
\nOld accusations.
\nNot the whole story.
\n\u201cRichard admitted stealing money,\u201d I said.
\nMr. Harris nodded.
\n\u201cHe may have been moving it under Charles\u2019s instructions.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what Thomas was trying to discover.\u201d
\nMy phone rang.
\nRebecca.
\nI answered immediately.
\n\u201cHow is Richard?\u201d
\n\u201cHe made it through surgery.\u201d
\nRelief hit me harder than expected.
\n\u201cCan he talk?\u201d
\n\u201cNot yet.\u201d
\nThen Rebecca lowered her voice.
\n\u201cDaniel, there\u2019s something else.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cThe police found the sedan.\u201d
\nMy heart jumped.
\n\u201cAnd the shooter?\u201d
\n\u201cGone.\u201d
\n\u201cWhose car?\u201d
\n\u201cIt was stolen.\u201d
\nOf course.
\nThen she said, \u201cBut they found a phone inside.\u201d
\nI waited.
\n\u201cThere was only one recent number.\u201d
\n\u201cWhose?\u201d
\nShe paused.
\n\u201cMr. Harris\u2019s.\u201d
\nI slowly looked up.
\nMr. Harris was standing ten feet away.
\nWatching me.
\n\u201cRebecca,\u201d I said carefully, \u201care you sure?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cStay at the hospital.\u201d
\n\u201cDaniel\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cDo not leave Richard alone.\u201d
\nI hung up.
\nCaroline looked confused.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\nI stared at Harris.
\n\u201cMaybe you can tell us.\u201d
\nHis expression didn\u2019t change.
\n\u201cTell you what?\u201d
\n\u201cThe shooter\u2019s phone had your number.\u201d
\nCaroline stepped backward.
\nMr. Harris went completely still.
\nThen he sighed.
\n\u201cI was afraid of this.\u201d
\n\u201cAfraid of what?\u201d
\n\u201cThat you would discover enough to become dangerous before you discovered enough to understand.\u201d
\nMy blood ran cold.
\n\u201cPut the page down, Daniel.\u201d
\nCaroline whispered, \u201cMr. Harris?\u201d
\nHe reached inside his jacket.
\nI moved in front of her.
\nBut Harris didn\u2019t pull out a gun.
\nHe pulled out another envelope.
\nEvelyn\u2019s handwriting was across the front.
\nGIVE THIS TO DANIEL ONLY IF PAGE 47 IS FOUND.
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cYou had another letter?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you give it to me?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause those were Evelyn\u2019s instructions.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd the phone?\u201d
\nHarris looked at me.
\n\u201cI received a call tonight from a man claiming to have information about Thomas\u2019s death. I didn\u2019t know he was involved in the shooting.\u201d
\n\u201cConvenient.\u201d
\n\u201cVery.\u201d
\nHe held out the envelope.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have to trust me.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cGood. Evelyn hoped you would finally learn that lesson.\u201d
\nI took the envelope.
\nInside was one page.
\nDaniel,
\nIf you have found Page 47, then you know my brother Charles was involved.
\nBut involvement and guilt are not always the same thing.
\nDo not make the mistake I made.
\nFor twenty years, I blamed Charles for Thomas\u2019s death.
\nThen, six months ago, I discovered evidence that changed everything.
\nMy pulse quickened.
\nI kept reading.
\nThomas had created a second set of records.
\nNot financial records.
\nPersonal records.
\nAudio recordings.
\nHe had secretly recorded meetings because he feared someone inside the company.
\nThose recordings still exist.
\nI know where they are.
\nI looked at Harris.
\n\u201cWhere?\u201d
\n\u201cFinish it.\u201d
\nI hated that sentence more every time I heard it.
\nThe recordings are stored in a safe-deposit box at First County Bank.
\nThe key is hidden somewhere you will understand.
\nI frowned.
\nSomewhere I would understand?
\nThen the next line stopped me.
\nThe key is inside the winter coat I gave you.
\nI stared at the page.
\nThe coat.
\nThe warm coat Evelyn bought after noticing mine barely closed.
\nOne of the first gifts she ever gave me.
\nI had thrown it into a storage locker months ago because the zipper broke.
\nI felt ashamed remembering it.
\nShe had given me warmth.
\nI had treated it like garbage.
\nBut she had hidden something inside it.
\n\u201cWe need to go,\u201d I said.
\nHarris nodded.
\nCaroline grabbed her keys.
\n\u201cI\u2019m coming.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThat page has my father\u2019s name on it.\u201d
\n\u201cExactly.\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019s my father, Daniel.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Richard is mine.\u201d
\nThe words surprised me.
\nHours ago, Richard had been nothing but a stranger with my DNA.
\nNow I was defending him.
\nCaroline stared at me.
\n\u201cI\u2019m coming.\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t argue again.
\nWe drove to my storage unit.
\nHarris followed in his own car.
\nI didn\u2019t trust him enough to ride with us.
\nWhen we arrived, the facility was almost empty.
\nMy unit was near the back.
\nI unlocked it.
\nBoxes.
\nOld furniture.
\nTools.
\nAnd hanging from a nail near the rear wall was Evelyn\u2019s coat.
\nDark green.
\nHeavy.
\nI pulled it down.
\n\u201cWhat are we looking for?\u201d Caroline asked.
\n\u201cA key.\u201d
\nI checked the pockets.
\nNothing.
\nThen I felt something stiff inside the lining.
\nI cut a small seam with my pocketknife.
\nA brass key fell into my palm.
\nTaped around it was a tiny strip of paper.
\nBOX 318.
\nCaroline exhaled.
\n\u201cWe found it.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI stared at the key.
\n\u201cWe found the door.\u201d
\nThe bank wouldn\u2019t open until morning.
\nWe agreed to meet at eight.
\nI took the key home.
\nNot to Evelyn\u2019s house.
\nTo my tiny apartment above an auto shop that I had rented after her death.
\nI barely slept.
\nAt 7:12 a.m., my phone rang.
\nUnknown number.
\nI almost ignored it.
\nThen I answered.
\n\u201cHello?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen a familiar weak voice.
\n\u201cDaniel.\u201d
\nI sat upright.
\n\u201cRichard?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t have much time.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere\u2019s Rebecca?\u201d
\n\u201cShe went to get coffee.\u201d
\n\u201cYou should be resting.\u201d
\n\u201cYou found Page 47.\u201d
\nIt wasn\u2019t a question.
\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Charles called me.\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cTen minutes ago.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d
\n\u201cThat Evelyn\u2019s little game was finally ending.\u201d
\nI stood.
\n\u201cRichard, did Charles kill Thomas?\u201d
\nSilence.
\n\u201cRichard?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who did?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou expect me to believe that?\u201d
\n\u201cI know who ordered me to move the money. I know who threatened Laura. But Thomas\u2019s death\u2026\u201d
\nHis voice weakened.
\n\u201cI spent twenty-five years believing Charles arranged it.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd now?\u201d
\n\u201cNow I know he didn\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Thomas called me the night he died.\u201d
\nI froze.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cFrom the car.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d
\n\u201cHe said he finally understood everything.\u201d
\nI gripped the phone.
\n\u201cEverything about what?\u201d
\n\u201cThe money wasn\u2019t the real crime.\u201d
\nMy skin prickled.
\n\u201cWhat was?\u201d
\nRichard whispered, \u201cProject Haven.\u201d
\n\u201cThat was housing.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Daniel.\u201d
\nHe coughed painfully.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what we told the public.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat was it really?\u201d
\nBefore he could answer, I heard a sound through the phone.
\nA door opening.
\nRichard went silent.
\n\u201cRichard?\u201d
\nNothing.
\nThen he whispered, \u201cSomeone\u2019s here.\u201d
\n\u201cCall the nurse.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nHis breathing changed.
\n\u201cDaniel\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cIf I don\u2019t make it\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cStop.\u201d
\n\u201cListen to Thomas\u2019s recordings.\u201d
\n\u201cI will.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd whatever you hear\u2026\u201d
\nHis voice broke.
\n\u201cRemember that your mother tried to stop all of us.\u201d
\nFootsteps sounded in the background.
\nThen the call disconnected.
\nI immediately called Rebecca.
\nNo answer.
\nAgain.
\nNo answer.
\nI called the hospital.
\nA nurse answered.
\nI asked for Richard\u2019s room.
\nThere was a pause.
\nThen she said, \u201cSir, we\u2019re dealing with an emergency on that floor.\u201d
\nMy blood turned cold.
\n\u201cWhat emergency?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, I can\u2019t provide\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cIs Richard Vale alive?\u201d
\nAnother pause.
\n\u201cI can\u2019t discuss patient information.\u201d
\nI grabbed my keys.
\nThen my phone buzzed.
\nA text from Rebecca.
\nOnly four words.
\nDON\u2019T COME TO HOSPITAL.
\nA second message appeared.
\nHE KNOWS ABOUT BOX 318.
\nI called her.
\nNo answer.
\nThen a third message arrived.
\nA photograph.
\nIt showed the entrance to First County Bank.
\nTaken from inside a vehicle.
\nSomeone was already watching it.
\nI checked the time.
\n7:34.
\nThe bank opened at eight.
\nI called Harris.
\n\u201cWe have a problem.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cSomeone knows about Box 318.\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen Harris said something that made my stomach drop.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d
\n\u201cApparently not.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Daniel. You don\u2019t understand.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cEvelyn never wrote the box number anywhere.\u201d
\nI stared at the little strip of paper taped around the key.
\nBOX 318.
\n\u201cThen how did she know?\u201d
\n\u201cShe didn\u2019t.\u201d
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d
\n\u201cEvelyn only knew Thomas had a box. She spent years trying to locate it.\u201d
\nI looked again at the strip of paper.
\n\u201cThen who put this note around the key?\u201d
\nHarris was silent.
\nAnd suddenly I understood.
\nSomeone had found the coat before me.
\nSomeone had opened the lining.
\nSomeone had placed the key back.
\nAnd someone wanted me to go to Box 318.
\nThis wasn\u2019t Evelyn leading me anymore.
\nIt was someone else.
\nBut why?
\nMy phone buzzed again.
\nThis time it was an image from an unknown number.
\nA photograph of my mother.
\nNot an old photograph.
\nA photograph I had never seen.
\nShe was standing outside First County Bank.
\nThe timestamp printed in the corner was from three days before she died.
\nUnderneath the photograph was a message.
\nYOUR MOTHER OPENED BOX 318.
\nSHE TOOK SOMETHING THAT DIDN\u2019T BELONG TO HER.
\nBRING PAGE 47 TO THE BANK AT 8:00.
\nCOME ALONE.
\nI stared at the screen.
\nThen another message appeared.
\nAND DANIEL?
\nI waited.
\nA final photograph loaded.
\nRebecca.
\nSitting in the back seat of a car.
\nHer hands bound.
\nFear in her eyes.
\nThe message beneath it contained six words.
\nOR SHE DIES LIKE THOMAS DID.
\nI looked at the clock.
\n7:38.
\nTwenty-two minutes.
\nFor twenty-five years, everyone had been protecting me from the truth.
\nNow someone was willing to kill for it.
\nI slipped Page 47 into my jacket, grabbed the key to Box 318, and ran for the truck.
\nBut as I reached the parking lot, I stopped.
\nBecause taped to my windshield was one final envelope.
\nNo stamp.
\nNo address.
\nJust my name.
\nDANIEL.
\nI opened it.
\nInside was a photograph of Evelyn taken only weeks before she died.
\nShe was sitting across a restaurant table from someone.
\nAt first, I couldn\u2019t see who.
\nThen I turned the photograph toward the morning light.
\nMy entire body went cold.
\nThe person sitting across from Evelyn was my mother.
\nI nearly dropped the photograph.
\nThat was impossible.
\nMy mother had been dead for six years.
\nYet the date printed on the photograph was six months ago.
\nAnd on the back, someone had written one sentence:
\nYOUR MOTHER ISN\u2019T DEAD……………………<\/p>\n
I was already starting my truck when Mr. Harris shouted through the phone, \u201cDaniel, listen to me. Do not go inside that house.\u201d \u201cSomeone is searching Evelyn\u2019s bedroom.\u201d \u201cExactly.\u201d \u201cAnd … <\/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-7207","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\/7207","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=7207"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7207\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7210,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7207\/revisions\/7210"}],"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=7207"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7207"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7207"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}