Catch Me If You Can Read Online Free PDF

journey is to right some old wrongs. Put our own stamp on this place.” This time when he looked around, it was with an expression of interest, curiosity, a little anticipation … and a lot of responsibility.
    “You’ll do a great job of it,” Tag told him, not wanting him to feel it as a burden, knowing he would anyway. “God knows, anything you two do will be an improvement ” He pulled Jace into a one-arm hug. “ Thanks.” He knew he should say more. Wished he could.
    “Don’t thank me yet,” Jace joked. But he hugged him back. “It’s the right thing to do. We’ll make it right . ” Then, as neither of them were comfortable with prolonged displays of sentimentality, Jace pushed past his brother into the hall. He tossed a smile over his shoulder as he headed toward the stairs. “I’m thinking I know just the way to warm Zan up to this idea.”
    “You might consider starting by bringing her a cup of coffee.”
    Jace’s smile spread to a grin. “We won’t be needing any artificial stimulants, thanks. Perfect way to start a Sunday morning if you ask me.”
    “Heathen.”
    “Pagan,” Jace shot back with an affectionate laugh.
    Whereas Jace was every bit the tall, lanky, close-cropped jock he’d always been, Tag knew he was anything but. From the shaggy head of curly hair, to the permanent tan, to the string of teeth and bones he wore woven around his neck, and the tribal tattoos that dotted his body, Tag no more fit in with the fine folks of Marshall County than a Papuan aborigine would. But here, in Rogues Hollow, he was the aborigine. Direc tl y descended from highwaymen and thieves, wanderers and set tl ers. And long before that, the Celts and the Druids. Even sixty-plus years of his father’s attempts to force a new history onto the Morgan name couldn’t stamp out the core genetics passed down through the ages.
    He’d always taken some comfort in that.
    Jace took the stairs two at a time, and Tag took additional comfort in the fact that the Morgan future was, for now, in g ood hands.
    His bemused smile faded as he turned back and looked the opposite way down the main hall, to the office door. And, he supposed, that left him to be the keeper of the Morgan past.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
     
    T ag poured himself another cup of coffee, then headed into the office and flipped the key on the cherrywood box before he could think too long on it. This wasn’t about digging up the artifacts of his father’s life. That would happen as a by-product, he knew. Just as he knew that any attempt to categorize whatever he uncovered in the same careful, deliberate way he would any other excavation would be woefully unsuccessful. He’d simply have to deal with that.
    He flipped open the lid and lifted out a small card that lay on top of stacks of letters and other items that were obscured from immediate view. His gaze fell on the handwritten words scrawled across the card, in what he still recognized as his father’s hand. With the first words, his body went rigid. This note was intended for him.
    You claim you were born to dig. That your mark is to be made uncovering past truths rather than adjudicating new ones. So be it. Here is your chance to uncover a few of your own. Are you man enough for it?
    Tag’s fingers tightened on the small card, curling the edges in. A taunt from beyond the grave. Now this was more like the man he’d known and lived to forget. Man enough. “You mean like leaving cryptic messages to be found after your death? When no one can question them? Or judge you?” You bastard, he thought, so what the hell kind of man does that make you, huh ?
    Tag crushed the card in his palm, then tossed it toward the waste can, not bothering to note if it went in or landed on the floor. His hands were on the lid of the box now, and he had every intention of slamming it shut. Serve his father right if he burned the whole damn thing, contents and all. “Man enough, my ass.”
    So many years