He gave her a bright smile that didn't even come close to his eyes. It was closer to an animal bearing its teeth than anything associated with mirth.

"Hello Gillian." The man smoothly moved into the space Cal vacated just moments ago.

Gillian couldn't find any words, stark terror temporarily striking her mute. She just stared at him, eyes wide.

"Why so scared?" Ian Harris' features were similar to his brother's, but his eyes were a cold ice blue, almost mirror-like. He cocked his head to the side, appraising her. Not unlike Cal. "Interesting. Separated by decades but we still have the same taste in women."

Photos of victims flashed through Gillian's mind. Different backgrounds but all sharing the same basic physical traits: slim, brunette, and blue-eyed. She wrestled to compartmentalize her fear, not wanting to give him any kind of satisfaction.

Apparently, she was at least moderately successful, for he frowned, narrowing his eyes.

"What do you want?" Finding her voice, it came out stronger than she had hoped.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe I'd like to catch up with my long lost brother. Sounds like he's done quite well for himself." His accent sounded a little different from Cal's. "Maybe I'd just like to experience this side of the Atlantic – haven't been here all that long you know."

"Long enough."

He leaned forward, showing teeth again. "You think so?"

She looked back at him coolly, clenching her hands in her lap to keep from shaking. "You tell me."

"Ah, games. That's right, you're a shrink."

"I think it best you get the hell away from her mate." A pair of strong hands grasped him by the overcoat and roughly pulled him off the chair into the aisle. There were several shocked gasps from surrounding tables.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cal could see the restaurant manager making a beeline for them, but he couldn't care less. Rage shook through him as he glared down at the other man.

"Well, that's not very brotherly." Ian climbed to his feet. He stood a couple of inches above Cal but was lankier. People usually underestimated him because of it. Didn't expect Lightman would though. "I'm thinking by this time you've already done your research."

"I have." Cal's voice was arctic.

"Quite the scoundrel our old man was."

"Indeed." His brow furrowed at Harris' use of past tense. Was. Did he know something that Cal didn't?

He moved forward, expression still filled with anger, causing the other man to take a step back. All Cal wanted was to position himself between this psychopath and Gillian.

"Is everything alright here?" The manager appeared next to them. "Do I need to call the police?"

"I don't know. Gillian, does he need to call the police?" Cal spoke without taking his eyes off the Harris.

"That won't be necessary." Ian straightened his coat. "It was nice to see both of you. I'm sure we'll talk later." Smirking, he turned heel and headed out the door.

Cal stood stock still for only a second before following. He was dimly aware of Gillian making a grab for his hand but she wasn't fast enough to take a firm hold. Her soft voice in the form of his name drifted up to him but he didn't pay any attention.

Brushing past the surly manager, he exited the restaurant, eyes combing the night, breath pluming out before him. The air had begun to carry a chilling bite but he took no notice.

"I'm right here brother."

Cal swung around to find Ian Harris leaning against the wall a few feet away from the door. He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew it out in cloud. "You're curious about me."

Narrowing his eyes, Cal kept his distance. "What did you mean when you said our father was a scoundrel?"

"Was. Hmm. I guess I did use past tense didn't I? Are you concerned?"

"Curious would be a better word."

Taking another drag, his face remained impassive. "I found him actually at one of those assisted living centers. When I walked up to him, he thought I was you." He smiled his wooden smile but a pained burn found his eyes. "You see him lately?"

Cal gave a tiny headshake. "Been years."

"Any particular reason?"

"What do you think?"

Blowing out more smoke, he gave a little cough. "I wouldn't know, would I?" Dropping the butt, he ground it under his shoe. "Just a name until recently. He was about what I expected. You were a bit of a surprise though."

"Why's that?"

Ian ignored the question. "Yeah, here I am walking toward this withered old man. Apparently he's had several strokes if you're interested. But he looks up at me with a big old smile and say 'Caleb, you've finally come home.' When I told him I wasn't you, well, I'm pretty sure that's when he lost control of his bowels. Didn't really know how to take that." He tapped out another cigarette, offered the pack to Cal who just continued to stare at him. With a shrug, he stuck it back in his overcoat pocket and pulled out his lighter. "Probably just his deteriorating body but, still, the timing was interesting."

"Why are you here now?"

Coughing, he shrugged again. "Like I was tellin' your lady friend. Thought I'd explore this side of the pond for a bit. Haven't been as lucky as you. Never been to the states."

"You and I both know there's more to it than that."

Ian straightened and took a step forward, blowing out another cloud of smoke. Cal's eyes burned slightly but he didn't move. "What more could there be, brother?"

"Why don't you tell me?" He intently stared up into the other man's face, reading what he could.

"Sometimes things are exactly as they seem. But then again, maybe not. I'll be seeing you around Caleb, or I guess you just go by Cal? Can't say I blame you." He turned up his collar against the wind and started to walk away. Pausing, he turned. "By the way, our old man is still alive. As far as I know, that is." He headed north, flagged a cab and was gone.

Cal continued to stand in the cold, his mind jumbled.

A soft touch on his hand startled him. He swung around quickly.

Gillian stood, eyes wide with concern. "What happened? Are you alright?" She'd hovered just inside the door watching fearfully, clutching her phone the whole time.

"Um, yeah darling." His teeth were starting to chatter and for the first time, he became aware of the cold night. It had stealthily crept into his bones while he'd been distracted. "You have my - ?"

Without answering, she handed him his overcoat.

"Thanks luv." He swung it over his shoulders but it did nothing to dispel the chill. "What did he say to you before I got back to the table?"

They started to walk back to her car and had only moved a couple of feet before he hooked an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. She didn't balk.

"Um, not too much. Didn't have much of a chance. There was one thing though…" Her voice had dropped and when Cal glanced at her, she seemed to have paled slightly.

He didn't push. They reached her car and by unspoken agreement, he took her keys. His sobriety was no longer in question. Turning the heater on full blast, it did little to push back the inner cold. Cal headed back to his place and Gillian made no comment.

During the drive home, Cal carefully watched the rearview mirror. He didn't really expect that they'd be followed but as a precaution, he made several sharp turns, looped around twice and purposely passed a police station before turning into his driveway and pulling into the garage. He felt slightly foolish, but it was a fact that Harris had followed them to the café and he didn't want to take any chances. His own personal confusion aside, there was no doubt in his mind that the man was dangerous.

Engaging all the locks behind them, Cal pulled off his coat and headed toward the kitchen. "Tea darlin'?" He stopped and looked at her. "Or some hot cocoa?"

"Um, cocoa would be nice. Thank you."

"You bet luv."

Gillian still hadn't removed her own coat, her chill permeating more from the inside than the outside. She trailed into the kitchen while he put the water up and sat on one of the bar stools. His proximity was comforting.

A few minutes later, he placed her warm drink in front of her and sat down with his own. She smiled, noting that he'd added two marshmallows to her cocoa. Few people would have known to do that.

"You never finished." His face became very serious, his eyes boring into hers. "What did he say to you?"

"Just that he wanted to explore the states, maybe get to know you, but he also said, um, he said that you both…" She frowned into her drink before looking back up, eyes fearful. "He said that you both shared similar taste in women."

"Christ."

"Why would he flaunt himself like that? Is he that confident that he hasn't made any mistakes?"

"He hasn't yet, but I'm not sure if it's even about that now."

"What do you mean?"

Cal dropped his head onto his hand. "I'm not sure. I just get the feeling that he's tired for lack of a better way to put it."

"Tired? You don't think he's just going to stop?"

"Not at all. What does your training tell you?"

"He's fulfilling a need."

"One that can never be completely satiated."

"Yes. It would be like an unreachable itch for him. Pure sociopath."

Nodding, his mouth set into a hard line. "I think we need to find if there are any unsolved murders in London with the same M.O. and also check for a rap sheet on him. In the meantime, how do you feel about my guest bedroom?"

She immediately opened her mouth to protest before shutting it again, inwardly debating. "Do you think that's necessary?"

Cal looked troubled which propelled her inner chill to merge with her bones once again. "I don't know darlin'. I just…" He gave her a half smile. "How about just humoring an old friend?"