Chapter One

Monday afternoon and all was not well. Sergeant First Class Margaret Alden sat at her desk in the Stars and Stripes newsroom, angry, frustrated, and doing her best to not to visualize how much she would enjoy running over First Sergeant John Hardin. The only thing stopping me, she thought to herself, is I'd probably damage my car, or at the very least, need to get it detailed.

Hardin was insisting she charge PFC Tami Lynn Wilson with being AWOL, when she knew damn well the kid wasn't. The girl hadn't shown back up at her barracks Saturday. Then Sunday afternoon her pastor had called. The girl had been a no show at the Sunday service. Tami Lynn was a rarity. A devout Mormon, she had attended church services on a regular basis since her arrival in the Islands. The girl was still missing at morning formation and, after talking to the roommates and seeing their concern, Alden had filed a missing persons report with both the HPD and the MP's. Instinct told her something wasn't right.

"Look, Hardin, I'm telling you for the last time, I don't think Wilson is AWOL. She's not the type to just take off."

"Fine, Alden, have it your way. I don't want to pull rank on you but if she's not back by tomorrow morning, I'm charging her with AWOL, and if the camera you let her borrow doesn't show back up, I'm charging her with theft of government property. And the next time you get a bright idea about filing a missing persons report with anyone, I'd appreciate it if you got my approval first. I am First Sergeant."

As if you didn't remind everyone on the planet at any given moment, she thought, but smiled and said. "Sorry about that, Top. I thought it was what you'd want, considering how you've always got the best interest of your troops at heart." God is going to strike me dead for lying.

Hardin collected his ever present coffee mug and stalked out of her office like a stork with hemorrhoids, apparently immune to sarcasm.

Bastard, she thought, I hope your prostate swells to the size of a basketball.

Her resentment toward Hardin was interrupted when the phone on her desk rang.

"Stars and Stripes, Sergeant First Class Alden speaking. How may I help you." she answered in a soft voice that still held traces of Southern drawl even after more than 18 years in the Army.

McGarrett's day had just gotten worse. He could never decide who annoyed him the most, journalists or Federal Agents. "This is Steve McGarrett with Five-O. Are you the Sergeant Alden who called in a missing persons report this morning on a PFC Tami Lynn Wilson?"

Maggie had only been in Hawaii for a short time but she knew Five-O by reputation. Something told her this was not going to be a pleasant phone call.

"That would be me. Please tell me you've found my soldier, and that she's okay."

"We're not sure yet," McGarrett said, trying to sound reassuring. "A couple of surfers found a body a few hours ago. The description on the missing persons report matches. There was no ID so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the morgue and have a look at the body".

"Oh, God", Maggie half whispered. "What happened?"

"I'd prefer not to discuss that over the phone or until we have a positive ID. The body may not be that of your missing soldier".

"I sincerely hope it isn't. I need directions from Ft Shafter. I'm new to the area so make them simple."

McGarrett gave her directions. She assured him she'd be there in about an hour and hung up the phone. Then putting on her uniform jacket and grabbing her purse and beret, she told the receptionist she'd be back by four.

"What do I tell the First Sergeant if he asks where you are?" inquired the receptionist, a young specialist fourth class from Iowa. The friction between Hardin and Alden, or more precisely, Hardin and anyone who had a functioning brain, was well known.

"Tell him I'm going to retrieve some missing government property. That ought to shut him up for a while. If you need anything, call my cell phone. And whatever you do, don't give Hardin the number."

She fished sunglasses out of her purse and switched them for the bifocals she had been wearing. Another day in paradise...


McGarrett and Williams were waiting in Doc Bergman's office for the forensic pathologist to come in with the preliminary reports from the young women's body. McGarrett sat scowling, lost in thought. Williams was watching the fish swimming in Bergman's aquarium.

McGarrett didn't even bother to get up when Bergman came in. "Well, got any answers for me, Doc?" he asked.

Bergman was use to McGarrett's abruptness and didn't take offense. "So far, looks like cause of death was strangulation. Bruising around the throat and a crushed trachea from the external exam are what you would expect to find with manual strangulation. The bite marks on her breast and thighs are consistent with the other six bodies, but unlike the previous six, there is no sign of sexual activity of any kind. And, strange as it may seem in this day and age, the girl died a virgin."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Williams.

"Probably the last virgin over sixteen in the state," Bergman said, sadly.

"Wouldn't bites be considered sexual assault?" McGarrett asked, giving Williams a 'shut the hell up' look.

"Not in this case and not in the classical context. I'll give the FBI profiler another call to see if he has any more insight into the way this guy thinks."

"That's all we need, Feds," said Williams, in the same tone someone would use when referring to plagues of fleas and fire ants. "Any hope of recovering DNA evidence?"

"We're going to try, but I have a feeling the surf took care of most of that. We've got the bite marks. We'll cast them and see if they match the other six victims, although I'm going to hazard a guess that it's the same guy. We still won't know much else until after the autopsy. That's scheduled first thing in the morning. I heard you got someone coming down to ID the body."

"Possibly", said McGarrett. "Had a missing persons report filed by the Army this morning. The sergeant's coming down for a look."

"If she's military it will make our life easier. She'll have current dental records and prints on file."

McGarrett's cell phone rang.

He answered it curtly "McGarrett". He listened for a second. "Tell her I'll be down in a minute. Sergeant Alden is here. Is the body ready for viewing?"

Bergman nodded. "I'll have her covered to the shoulders since we're still using the bite marks as hold back evidence."

McGarrett nodded. "Excellent idea, especially when you consider the good sergeant works for the Stars and Stripes."


McGarrett and Williams stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. They saw the sergeant standing by the front desk. They looked at the sergeant, and then they looked at each other. McGarrett raised one eyebrow, Williams shrugged and smiled. Non-coms hadn't looked like this when they were on active duty.

She was a small woman, not more than five foot one, standing very straight in the low heeled uniform pumps she was wearing, and she was curved in all the right places. Her hair had gone silver early, and was pulled back into a braid that was coiled at the back of her head. She wore wire rimmed glasses and the eyes behind the lenses were dark green, nearly matching the uniform she wore. The service stripes on her left sleeve indicated she'd been in at least 18 years. With the exception of the prematurely silver hair, she looked all of twenty-five.

McGarrett spoke first. "You must be Sergeant Alden."

"That would be me and you would be Mr. McGarrett." she said in the same southern accent he'd heard over the phone. She looked up at the tall detective. Mid 40's to early 50's she decided, in fairly decent shape, broad shoulders, trim waist, pale blue eyes, and lots of dark hair.

"Yes, and this is my associate, Dan Williams. If you will come with us we'll get this unpleasantness out of the way as quickly as possible". A southern drawl combined with green eyes dark enough to drown in. She had looked up at him with an even, intelligent gaze you very seldom saw in people addressing police officers for the first time. Something in the back of his mind was screaming that this small woman was one of a kind. He tried to ignore it and put his mind back on the business at hand.

She handed McGarrett a manila envelope. "I stopped by the post dental clinic on the way out and collected Private Wilson's dental records, in case you need them."

"Good thinking, Sergeant," said McGarrett, taking the envelope. "This will make things easier for the medical examiner, if indeed this is your missing soldier. This way please".

He motioned for her to follow them to the elevator. As she stepped in she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Sorry", she said. "I'm a little claustrophobic."

"It's a short ride", McGarrett said, "We're only going two floors."

It seemed like an eternity before the doors opened into an institutional green waiting area. Green linoleum floor, green walls, ugly uncomfortable green chairs. A table with a coffee urn and Styrofoam cups stood in one corner. A rack on the wall held brochures for grief counselors and funeral homes. This was not a happy room.

McGarrett slid a key card that opened a pair of institutional green metal doors on the left side of the room that opened into a tiled corridor. It was colder back here, and smelled of disinfectant. A middle aged man in a lab coat and surgical scrubs approached them. McGarrett introduced him as Dr. Bergman, the head of the pathology department. McGarrett handed Bergman the envelope with the dental records. Bergman nodded, and led them into another freezing room, this one painted gray; one wall was a bank of refrigerated drawers.

"Are you ready, Sergeant?" he asked. Maggie nodded. Bergman opened the door and slid out the drawer.

"Oh, god, no," she whispered.

"Is this your soldier?" McGarrett asked.

"It's her. What happened? Oh, god, I've got to call her parents!"

"For the record, could you state her name and address, please?"

"PFC Tami Lynn Wilson, United States Army, HHC, 223rd Public Affairs Battalion, Ft Shafter, Hawaii." Maggie said automatically. "This is awful. What happened?"

"Thank you," Bergman said as closed the drawer. "I'll get someone up here to do a comparison with the dental records before you leave, just for verification. I'm also going to need a copy of your ID for the records." Maggie took the ID out of her wallet and handed it to Bergman. "I'll have this back to you in a few minutes. Steve, could you find the Sergeant a cup of coffee while I do that?"

"I think I can handle that." McGarrett said. He took her arm. "Danno, stay with Doc, make sure everything gets entered into evidence. Sergeant Alden, if you'd come with me I have a few question for you and maybe a few answers for yours."

He led her to a room off the reception area; this one painted the same horrible green but furnished with soft comfortable chairs.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asked.

"I don't," she said, rather sharply.

McGarrett raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," she said. "Guess you could say this isn't one of my better moments. I'm not a coffee person. I'll take a Diet Coke if you have one." And a cigarette, she added to herself. Why the hell did I ever stop smoking?

McGarrett left, and came back in few minutes with an ice cold can of Diet Coke. She popped the top and took a long drink, feeling the carbonated liquid burn the back of her throat.

"Better now?" he asked. She nodded. "I need to know as much about Private Wilson as possible. Any habits, friends, boyfriends, anything you can think of, and we'll need a picture, if you have one. I don't like showing morgue photos when I'm trying to find answers."

Maggie took a deep breath. "She was 19 years old. She's been here just over a month. I don't know about a boyfriend, you'd have to ask her roommates about that. She's a photographer. She wanted to go sightseeing at the Arizona this weekend. I gave her a camera and some film and told her to get a few shots for next week's Sunday supplement. That was about nine Saturday morning."

"What was she wearing?"

"Blue BYU tee shirt and a long skirt, mostly blue, sandals, blue fanny pack instead of a purse."

McGarrett nodded. She had just described the clothes found at the scene, with the exception of the fanny pack and camera. "What kind of camera?"

"An older Cannon. Good camera, kind of heavy. There isn't much you can do to destroy one of the things. We've got newer and lighter ones but she liked the old Cannon's."

"Was she wearing any jewelry, rings, watches, that sort of thing?"

Maggie thought for a minute. "She did have a watch, couldn't tell you what kind, and a birthstone ring. I remember the ring because it was a pink zirconium, the kind jewelers are trying to pass off as October's birthstone these days instead of opals. Her birthday was in October, same as mine, and I said she needed to get opals. She said her mother had told her opals were bad luck unless they were given to you by your true love and she'd have to wait on hers. Oh, and a gold chain with that Mormon angel on it, Moroni, I think it's called."

"Mormon angel?" McGarrett asked. The Army sergeant was wearing an opal and diamond birthstone ring on her right hand and a very nice platinum wedding set on her left, damn the bad luck.

"Yes, the one who told Joseph Smith where to find the Book of Mormon. Don't ask me for details, I'm a recovering Baptist. She was a very active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints. She was in church every time the doors opened. When she didn't show up for services Sunday, the local bishop called me. I checked with her roommates only to find that she had never come in Saturday night. She was still a no show this morning and I filed a missing persons report with HPD and post MP's. I caught nine kinds of hell for it from the First Sergeant. He wanted to carry her as AWOL".

McGarrett was impressed. Most military types would have had the girl written up for AWOL and had done with it. "Why did you file the missing persons report?"

"You would have had to know the girl to understand. She was a true innocent, naive as all get out. She had this sense of duty that was unbelievable. Most kids today, they join for the GI Bill and the rest of the bennies. Not her. She thought it was her duty as an American. In a way it was kinda corny, but sweet. Hadn't the vaguest clue about what she'd gotten herself into when she enlisted. Everybody on staff, including her two nutcase roomies, went out of their way to make sure she didn't come to harm. A fat lot of good that did."

Maggie was crying now, her eyes shining like wet leaves. There was a small scar above her right eyebrow, making the brow arch slightly higher than the one on the left. A small upturned nose, full soft lips, and a square chin completed the picture. He handed her a tissue from the box on the table.

"Thanks," she said, sniffing a bit. "I hate to cry. It blows the whole tough woman in uniform image completely out of the water."

McGarret gave her a slight smile. "Not around here. Crying at the morgue is practically a requirement."

There was a soft knock on the door. Dan Williams entered, looking rather grim. "We checked the dental records. They're a match. I'm sorry, Sergeant, we just confirmed that she's your missing soldier." He handed Maggie a clipboard, her military ID clipped to the top of a form. "You need to sign here. This indicates that you have seen and identified the body." She signed the form, retrieving her ID when she was done. Danny separated the papers and gave her a copy of the form.

Maggie took a deep breath. McGarrett noticed that among other things, she had a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star, and assorted other ribbons that you don't get for keeping your boots spit shined. Her face changed and suddenly she was all business and all journalist. "Now would either of you gentleman care to tell me what happened. Was it an accident?"

McGarrett had known that question was coming, and he was ready for it. "I'm sorry to have to tell you she was murdered."

"What? No, that can't be! Who would do a thing like that? She's just a kid!"

"We don't know at this time but let me assure you that we will find them. All I can tell you for now is that she was strangled, probably in another location, and her body was left on the beach. Both her fanny pack and the camera are missing, but we have people out scouring the area where she was found. I'll need the serial number from the camera. We'll send a list around to all the pawn shops and put out word on the streets that anyone finding either the camera or the pack will benefit from Five-O's gratitude. We're just starting the investigation, and that's about all we have for now. There is an autopsy scheduled for tomorrow morning. We'll let you know when it's done and make arrangements for the release of the body. Since she's military, we're going to call in a pathologist from Trippler as an observer. The one thing we do know, however, was that she wasn't sexually assaulted."

"I suppose that will be some comfort to her parents. Is there anything else you need me for? I have to get back to post and start taking care of things."

"I'll walk you to your car. Is there a number where I can reach you?" It was Williams turn to raise an eyebrow. He knew Steve already had her contact number, or else the sergeant wouldn't be here. McGarrett ignored him.

She took a business card out of her jacket pocket. "Those are the numbers to the Stars and Stripes office. Do you have a pen?" McGarret gave her one and she wrote on the back of the card. "The top one is to the BEQ. The bottom one is my cell phone number. Quickest way to reach me is call my cell."

He took Maggie's arm and led her out of the building. He couldn't identify the perfume she was wearing but it was giving him ideas he shouldn't have about a married women.

"Is your husband stationed in the Islands?" he asked as they were walking out of the building to where a yellow Mustang convertible with the top up was parked by the curb.

"Unfortunately, no," she said. "He was killed during the Gulf War."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, not knowing what else to say.

She was rummaging through her purse, looking for her keys. She dug them out and tried to insert one into the door lock only to find that her hands were shaking so much all she was managing to do was scratch the paint around the lock.

McGarrett's large hand closed over her smaller one, steadying it. She looked up, green eyes meeting blue ones, trying to ignore the tingle that started where his hand touched hers and ran all the way down her spine. "Thank you" she said as she unlocked the door.

"I'll send a couple of people over to question her roommates. When would be a good time?"

"Around five, they should be off duty by then. I'll be there, too. We have to inventory her things...Uh, you can let go of my hand now".

Steve did, smiling a bit. Can't fault a guy for trying, besides, when he had touched her hand he'd felt a jolt of electricity that went all the way to his toes.

"I'll be in touch" he said, closing her door.


Maggie arrived back at the Stars and Stripes office around three-thirty. She dropped her things off at her desk and headed directly for the Commander's office.

She opened the door and saluted. "Sergeant Alden reporting for duty, Sir!" she said.

"At ease, Sergeant. And how many times do I have to tell you not to do that every time you walk through my door?" It was an old joke between them. Colonel George Dale was winding down his military career as a public affairs officer. He was enjoying his last assignment to the fullest, and with few exceptions, liked his staff. Maggie had worked for him before in Europe and he had been glad to see her when she had been reassigned to Hawaii.

"Sorry, sir", she said. "Unfortunately, this is official. It's about PFC Wilson. A couple of surfers found a body this morning. I just came back from the morgue. It was her. The medical examiner confirmed my ID with her dental records." She gave him the form from the coroner's office. "Here's the official confirmation of identity, or at least that's what's written on the damned form."

"Oh, hell, sit down already. This was the kid Hardin threw a fit over because you filed a missing persons report instead of charging her with AWOL?" Maggie nodded. "What happened? Was it an accident, did she drown?"

Maggie sat. "No, sir, she was strangled and her body dumped on the beach. The police are investigating. Not that they know much at this point."

"Crap. Kid had been here, what, a month. Nice girl. Dig out all her contact info, I'll call her parents and get the ball rolling on shipping her back to... where was she from anyway?"

"Provo, Utah. And you can do me a favor. Keep the First Sergeant as far away from this as possible. That idiot is bound to do or say something stupid and cause more trouble than he's worth. And for God's sake, don't let him talk to her parents."

"Sergeant Alden, that's going a bit too far. I know you don't get along with Hardin but he does outrank you and he is First Sergeant".

"As he so often reminds anyone who will listen. Yes, sir, I know it's bordering on insubordination, but that man just flat gets on my nerves. As soon as Private Wilson's roommates get off work this afternoon, the police will be sending a couple of investigators over to talk to them. Do you really want him in the area when that happens?"

"Point well taken. I'll see to it that he's busy somewhere across the post. Oh, and a word to the wise, please. First Sergeant Hardin says that the main topic of conversation between the women around here seems to be menstruation. He says it's all you women talk about when he's within earshot."

"It's the only way we can get rid of him, sir." Maggie said before she thought about it. "Oops, wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"You didn't. But spread the word to confine personal talk to the ladies room from now on."

"Yes, sir." she said meekly. "We get to hear all the gory details of his alleged combat exploits and he gets offended when women discuss a perfectly natural body function. Won't happen again, sir. I'll go get Private Wilson's contact info. As soon as her roomies show up we'll inventory her stuff and get it packed up. Damn, I hate doing this and I hope to God it's the last one I ever have to do."

"Remind me how much longer you have until retirement."

"Twenty-one months, sir. Another day like today and it won't get here fast enough."


Maggie went back to the BEQ to shower and change before she had to meet with Wilson's roommates and the investigators. The BEQ was an older three story building that had once housed WWII fighter pilots. It had been renovated and turned into senior enlisted quarters in the late sixties. The accommodations consisted of two room suites with a bathroom in between. The building was shared by both male and female non-com's, all of them years older than the kids living in the barracks across the street.

Maggie's suitemate was Susan 'Lu' Yablanski, a tall blonde from Indiana. She and Lu had been stationed together on and off for years. Lu had introduced Maggie to her late husband, and Maggie had in turn stood up with Lu at both of her weddings. The two of them were the quintessential Mutt and Jeff pairing, Lu standing six feet tall in her stocking feet and Maggie all of five foot one in boots. Lu was a few years older than Maggie, how many she refused to say. She'd been in 23 years, and, as she was fond on telling anyone who'd listen, she'd have long been retired if her daughter hadn't been accepted at Vassar, which was her way of saying to the rest of the world, hey I may just be an Army grunt, but damn, my kid is fucking brilliant.

Lu had already changed out of her uniform into a jeans and a Vassar sweatshirt. She stuck her head in the door as Maggie was pulling on a clean shirt, trying her best to hide a wince at the sight of the scars on her friends back and torso. They were probably the only two senior NCO's living at the BEQ who never locked the doors between their rooms. "I just heard about the kid. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. So far anyway. The CO's calling her parents. Rather him than me."

"Ain't that the truth? He called me in earlier, said to be over at her room at five. I think we should go over early and make sure her roomies are behaving before the cops get there."

"Why's that?"

"Cause her roomies are the Thompson Twins."

"Oh, crap. I'd forgotten about that. Looks like no dinner for us tonight," said Maggie as she pulled a lightweight pale grey crocheted lace sweater on over her tank top.

"Too bad we didn't have the Twins in Iraq. If we'd turned them loose on Baghdad old Saddam would have agreed to anything to get rid of 'em."

"Kinda reminds me of us when we were their age," Maggie said, unpinning her long hair and letting the braid fall down her back.

"Don't remind me. How did we ever survive?"


The Thompson Twins were not twins. Nor were they related. One was black, the other white, but a shared last name had paired them in boot camp and kept them together. There wasn't much the pair of them hadn't tried, both individually and collectively. In their wake they left a string of broken hearts, and occasional broken bones. Both were now E-4's, although for how long would be anyone's guess. Wilson had been assigned to their room in hopes of being a calming influence.

Maggie knocked softly. No answer. She could hear music and knew darn well the Twins were in there.

Lu stepped up to the door. "Let me at 'em", she said. She knocked hard enough to wake the dead. "Alright, kids! You got until I count to three to open this door and then I'm going to get the CQ!"

The music died and there were the sounds of frantic shuffling and a can of air freshener being emptied. The door opened. Smoke drifted out of the room. Maggie took a deep breath, caught the scent of CK1, Glade, and the cloying scent of marijuana. The Twins were entertaining.

"Ok, guys, out!" Maggie ordered, glaring at the two young men who where trying their best to hide behind each other. "Now! And be happy it was me that busted you instead of someone else. And that goes for the shit you're smoking too. Don't give me that look. I know what I'm smelling and I personally don't give a damn what you do on your off time but in about half an hour this place is going to crawling with MP's and police officers and I don't want to spend the next month babysitting your sorry butts while you're on extra duty. Got it? Good. Now take the weed and take a hike!"

The men, kids really, not more than 20 at the most, beat a hasty retreat out the door and down the stairs.

"We're sorry, Sarge," mumbled Ebony Thompson, who's real name was Grace and was white.

"Open a damned window and get this place aired out." Lu ordered. "Have you two lost it completely? That idiot First Sergeant would like nothing better than to send the pair of you to the stockade."

"Don't know what that cracker's got against us," said Ivory Thompson, the black half to the Twins, and who's mother had thought that Ivory was a good name for her twelfth and youngest child, or else she'd ran out of options. Ivory and Maggie were both from South Louisiana, and had bonded immediately.

"I could name a few thing," said Maggie, "but I don't have time. We've got homicide detectives coming to interview you. Please, anything you can think of, no matter how insignificant, let them know".

"Somebody really kill Tami?' asked Ebony.

Lu nodded. "That's what it looks like at this point. Killed her and dumped her by the water".

Both the older women were so preoccupied with their own thoughts that neither of them noticed the rare moment that was occurring. The Thompson Twins were speechless.


McGarrett and Williams, accompanied by a pair of MP's and an officer from the Provost Marshall's office, arrived promptly at five, followed by two men from the supply room carrying boxes. The men, working off a few extra duty hours, seemed more than relieved when they were told they could go.

Maggie was pleasantly surprised to see McGarrett. "I'd have thought you'd have sent another investigator," she said.

"Not this time" he said. She'd changed into a grey sweater over a pink tank top and a long pink and grey cotton print skirt that made her look even younger than when he'd seen her earlier. "Are these the roommates?"

"Yes" said Maggie. "Don't let them fool you, they've been advised to be on their best behavior. These are Specialist Grace Thompson and Specialist Ivory Thompson, otherwise known as the Thompson Twins, although you can clearly see that this is not the case. Twins, this is Commander McGarrett and Detective Williams from Hawaii Five-O. They are here to ask you some questions about the last time you saw Tami alive."

As it turned out, there wasn't much to tell. All three of the young women had gone to Mama Maliki's for the Friday night Luau. As usual, the Twins had gotten wasted on tequila and had started a fight with a couple of sailors (males) and were asked to leave. Since Tami was the only one sober and not combative she was elected designated driver and had driven Ivory's Hyundai Accent back to the barracks and gotten the other two girls to bed before the First Sergeant, who, according to the Twins, obviously had no life, busted them for being drunk and disorderly again. Both had awakened with hangovers and had declined Tami's offer to go sightseeing. That had been around eight o'clock Saturday morning.

"Then," Maggie continued, "Tami stopped by the office around nine to check out a camera and some film. She told me she was going to take the bus to the Arizona Memorial. That was the last anyone saw her on post. Oh, before I forget, here's the serial numbers from the camera and lenses." She handed McGarret note card covered with typed info.

McGarrett nodded. "Thank you, we'll get this out first thing in the morning. I know this may sound like we're intruding at a time like this, and we don't have a warrant, but would you mind if we looked through her things? We need to find out as much about her as we can."

Maggie and Lu both agreed to the search. Then McGarrett stunned both the sergeants by asking the Twin's permission.

"You girls probably knew her better than anyone here. Do you mind? I'll owe you a big favor if you do?" The Twins nodded. For a cop, McGarrett seemed decent enough, and besides, having one of the Island's top cops owing them a favor could be useful one day.

"No problem, sir," said Ebony. She'd also seen the way his eyes had lit up when he saw Sgt Alden. If that look was any indication, Sgt Alden had an admirer, about time, to her way of thinking, besides he didn't look half bad for an old guy. "Only let us take the stuff out of the drawers and things. It won't seem right, having a bunch of strangers pawing through her stuff. If you see anything you need to take a closer look at, just let us know."

Lu hated to make the next request, but she did it anyway. "I'm going to need her Class A's. The whole thing, the skirt uniform, shirt, brass, complete set of underwear, and shoes, the pumps, please. We'll need it for sending her home."

Ebony Thompson nodded. "We'll take care of it, Sergeant Y."

The Twins started opening drawers and loading things into the boxes, calling off the items as they went, Maggie and Lu making notes on clipboards as they did. McGarrett, feeling more like a voyeur than he cared to admit, listened intently, hoping none of the women present would think he was a pervert if he had to ask any questions about underwear. He was relieved when he didn't have to.

"One six pack Haynes Her Way beige cotton granny panties", Ivory called out, "one pair missing".

"She must have hit the undies sale at the PX," Lu commented.

"Yeah," said Ebony. "A six pack of beige cotton granny panties and two beige cotton bras. At least she had on new underwear when she died."

Ivory tossed the package into the box. "I tried to get the silly heifer to buy some thongs instead of this old lady underwear. Wouldn't do it. Oh, fuck." She burst into tears and ran from the room.

McGarrett ran a hand through his hair. Coffee, he thought, need coffee. "Sergeant Alden, we're about done here. I'll leave Detective Williams to finish up. Would you join me for a cup of coffee? Oh, wait, you don't do coffee, but I know a place that makes a pretty mean Chai tea."

Maggie looked at Lu, confused. Lu nodded. "Go on, I can finish up and maybe convince Detective Williams to buy me a drink."

"Why not?" said Maggie, somewhat hesitantly. She hadn't been on a date with a man since her husband had died over five years earlier, even one as simple as going out for a coffee, and there was something about that tall detective that was making her heart beat faster. "Lu, call me if you need anything."

"Get out of here, Margaret," Lu said, barely glancing up from her clipboard.

'Let's go," McGarrett said. "You'll love this place. It's got a great view of the ocean."


"So, where are we going?" she asked as they headed down the stairs. He's really tall, she thought, and looks way too good in that suit. What the hell is the matter with me? And that accent. It's not native. I swear I'm hearing Brooklynin there somewhere.

"A little place called Maholo's. It's down the beach from here. It's a quiet place, family run. I think you'll like it."

"I've only been here a few months and I'm still trying to find my way around," she said as they were crossing the lobby of the building just as the first sergeant was coming through the front doors. She groaned inwardly. "Oh, crap, here comes trouble".

"Alden," Hardin called out. "Hold it right there!"

"What is it, Top?" she asked as he strode across the room, looking for all the world like a anorexic vulture.

He stopped about two feet in front of her. "Why the hell didn't you tell me the police were going to be here interviewing those two psychos? I should have been informed, either by you or Master Sergeant Alphabet! I'm senior to both of you and you damn well know it!"

"Listen, Top, the Old Man told me he had sent you across post on a very important mission and I wasn't to bother you. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with him in the morning and I'd appreciate it if you got quit referring to Master Sergeant Yablanski as "alphabet" and the Thompson's as 'those two psychos'".

"This isn't the end of this by a long shot," Hardin was practically shouting. "And who's the civilian? You know civilians aren't allowed in the barracks without being signed in. He signed in? You sign him in? Did someone else?"

McGarrett had had about enough. "I rather think I signed myself in," he said, taking out his credentials and shoving them in Hardin's face. "Steve McGarrett, Commander, Hawaii Five-O. Your people have been very co-operative. If Sgt Alden hadn't called in the missing persons report this morning we'd still be trying to identify that young woman's body. The two young ladies upstairs were most helpful, as well as the other sergeant. In fact she, one of my men, and the MP's are just finishing up now. After I've been briefed by Detective Williams I'll be happy to pass the information on to your commander, who I'm sure will pass it down through proper channels. Until then, we're done here. Now if you will excuse us". He took Maggie's arm and led her out the door before Hardin had time to recover.

"Sweet move, Commander," Maggie said as Steve hit the clicker on his key fob to unlock the doors of a black Mercury Marquis parked in front the building. He opened the passenger side door for her, then going around to the other side; he took the 'police' placard off the windshield and tossed it into the back seat.

"Is he always like that? And it's Steve." He said, getting in and starting the car.

"Only about 99% of the time. The rest of time he's just a total ass. You know I really could use a cup of tea after that, Steve. And I guess its Maggie."

"Coming right up, I guess its Maggie," he said, smiling.


It was a nice place, decorated in old Hawaiian style with bamboo, palm fronds, ti plants, and bougainvillea. There were about a dozen small square tables, a bar, and a line of booths along one wall. The back of the place opened onto a small deck with tables and tiki torches overlooking the ocean. A set of narrow steps went down to a pier that jutted out over the water.

"Can we get a table on the deck?" Maggie asked, starting to feel a lot better about her date.

Steve smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that. Hey, Kimo," he called to the waiter, "can we get the kona special blend and a pot of chai tea on the lanai, please?"

"Sure ting, brudah, coming right up."

"And bring us a couple of your omelets to go with it." He turned to Maggie. "Kimo has this all day breakfast thing going. Perfect for when you miss dinner."

They chose a table closest to the wooden railing that ran the length of the balcony. A warm soft breeze was blowing in from off the ocean, making the torches flicker.

"So," he asked. "How'd you end up here in Paradise?"

Maggie gave him a crooked half smile. "I'm not sure. This is the first place the Army ever sent me that has decent weather. I'm not going to know what to do come this winter and I won't have to dig my car out of a snow bank to get to work. How about you?"

"One of the easy questions. I was stationed here while in the Navy and didn't want to leave."

"My youngest sister was in the Navy. We were in the Gulf at the same time. I got to meet some of the sailors on her ship during the war. Those Navy women were amazing. You were Navy too?"

"Still am, actually. Navy Reserve, that is. I kept expecting to get called up for active duty during the Gulf War, but never did. I think the governor may have had something to do with that or else the navy thought I was too old. Not that it made much difference. With the number of officers called up for active duty the entire force was pulling overtime."

"I'll bet. I was in Germany when it started, with the Stars and Stripes European bureau. We deployed with the first wave of troops only to find that CNN had beat us there by four days. To this day every time I see a CNN logo I have to fight the urge to chunk something heavy at the TV screen."

Kimo brought their order, along with a pot of real cream, sugar, and a small container of powdered vanilla. "Here you go, brudah," he said, pouring McGarrett a cup of very black coffee. "Straight up, just the way you like it. Miss Wahine, that vanilla be 'da real ting, made from my mama's recipe, not like dat cheap crap dey use at dat place I ain't gonna name. Let me know when you ready for a refill."

Maggie poured a cup of tea and added a bit of the vanilla powder. The aroma rising from the cup was heavenly. She added a little cream, stirred, and took a sip. "Oh, my", she said, "This is divine. I don't suppose he sells the tea packaged to take home." The omelet was served with bacon, toast, and fresh pineapple. She took bite of the omelet. It was filled with ham and cheese and absolutely delicious.

"Nope, already tried with the coffee. If I had this stuff at the office I'd get twice as much work out of my staff. Sure you don't want to try some?" He dug into his omelet.

"No, thank you. I had a very bad experience with coffee when I was a little bitty just out of AIT private, responsible for doing more research than reporting and re-writes for an old sergeant who's spelling was worse than mine and thought 'fact check' and dictionaries were something that happened to other people. It was on a payday weekend, and a bunch of us were at the club doing our best to drink ourselves into oblivion. Well, the paper for Sunday gets printed on Saturday night, it's about 2230 and none of us are feeling any pain. CQ comes bursting into the club, demanding a staffer who could operate a typewriter, ASAP, and yours truly here was the only one he could find."

"Emergency re-write. First time I've heard of needing one of those in the middle of the night."

"If you'd known old sergeant Owens, you'd understand why. He was a major alkie and about three months shy of retirement. We were all covering for him so he could do his twenty and collect his pension, and that included a whole lot of emergency re-writes at odd hours. Next thing I know, the CQ tosses me over his shoulder and hauls me out of the club and to the barracks. Lu and another girl force fed me a pot of black coffee so strong it could have been used as paint stripper and then threw me into an ice cold shower. Instant sobriety. Thought I was going to die. To this day I have no idea how managed to get the re-write done before the paper went to press. Haven't touched coffee or Southern Comfort since, but that was back when I was young and stupid and just knew I was invincible. The only good thing about that incident was Lu and I have been buddies ever since."

"Sounds like you've had an interesting career," he observed.

"Probably not as interesting as yours." She drank her tea. "I've got a dumb question. What does Five-O mean? Is it like department 50 or something esoteric that everyday people can't guess?"

He laughed softly, "No mystery," he said. "And you're close. Hawaii is the fiftieth state, therefore Five-O. We're a special branch of state law enforcement and no one could come up with anything better to call us. I guess you could say the name stuck."

"And your special branch is in charge of finding out what happened to Tami. Is it because she was military?"

He hadn't expected that question, then again, he must not have been thinking straight or he wouldn't have forgotten that the petite green eyed woman sitting across from him was a reporter. "Five-O has a relationship with the military that goes back to when the Islands first became a state. One of those old status of forces agreements that was never rescinded."

Maggie nodded, "So what's next, with the investigation that is?"

"At this point it's more questions than answers. We start by retracing her steps after she left post and to see if we can pick up her trail. If she made it to the Arizona memorial she may have signed the guest book. If she did, we'll know she made it that far. We'll check security camera footage; at both the transit station and the memorial, see can find anything. If we do, we'll know where to start looking. Forensics will check everything for traces of DNA, and we'll keep you posted if we find anything."

"I suppose it's asking a little too much to hope you already have a suspect in mind." She said, sighing. "I would love to be able to tell her parents the creep's already behind bars."

McGarret had had the same conversation more times than he cared to remember and he had never gotten use to it. "I wish I had better answers for you. It takes time to build a case. I want the lowlife off the street just as badly as you do and when we do catch him, and we will, I want a case so airtight the lawyers can't loophole their way out." He poured another cup of coffee.

Maggie shook her head, her braid falling over one shoulder. "It looks like we're in for the long haul. If there's anything I can do to help with, let me know. I'm not an investigative reporter, but I'm good at research. I have a horrible feeling Tami isn't the first woman this monster has killed."

He gave her a sharp look, wondering just how much she knew and how much was instinct. He knew she hadn't been in the Islands long enough to know about the previous six murders nor had there been much mention of them in the news. Dead hookers didn't sell papers. "At this point I'll take any help I can get".

They ate in silence for a while. The moon was just starting to rise, full and round, over the ocean. "Wow!" she said. "Take a look at that moonrise. First time I've seen the moon rising over the Pacific".

"If you'd like, we can walk down the end of the pier."

"Can we? That would be wonderful!" she said. She stood up, trying to hide a grimace of pain as the hardware holding her spine together reminded her it was still in there.

"You okay?" McGarret asked, taking her arm.

"I'm fine, overdid the PT this morning, is all," she said, lying her head off.

"Does that have anything to do with the Purple Heart you were wearing earlier today?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing serious. Just a reminder that I'm not quite as invincible as I once thought I was, or as young." she said with a slight sad smile and just for an instant, he caught a brief glimpse of what could only be called the thousand yard stare. It was a look that he'd seen often enough to know she wasn't being totally honest. No matter, he'd find out sooner or later. He wrapped his arm around her waist as they went down the steps. She'd forgotten how nice it was to lean against a warm male body. He smelled of sandalwood, good soap, and a faint hint of gun oil. Of course, she thought, he's a cop, he's armed. She wanted to bury her face in his chest and inhale deep lungfuls. A wave of guilt washed over her. She pulled away from him a bit, feeling horribly disloyal to her late husband's memory.

If he noticed, he didn't show it. They walked to the end of the pier; the only sounds the crash of the surf below. She was so short she didn't even come up to his shoulder. He reached down and pushed a stray lock of silver hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "The wind is unbraiding your hair."

She smiled at that. "It's got a mind of its own, especially near the water."

Moonlight gleamed off the darker silver highlights in her hair and reflected off the lenses of her glasses. I just met her, he thought, and I feel like I've known her forever. All I want to do is wrap her in my arms and protect her. There was something about her that you didn't see very often, something the world or the military hadn't managed to touch, and right along side of that, a deep sadness you could feel when you got close.

"How's the view?" he asked.

"Gorgeous," she said. "Full waning moon, see, there's a little slice gone from the bottom right? It's the perfect combination of ocean breezes and moonlight on water. I'll bet it was spectacular a couple of days ago when it came full." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, consigning the view to memory. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here." She half turned to face him. It seemed only natural when he placed both hands on her hips, feeling their soft curve beneath her skirt.

"You are most welcome," he said, resisting the urge to draw her closer. He could have stood there with her for hours, watching her watch the moon, listening to the wind and the water, looking into those big green eyes. Instead he sighed and asked if she was ready to go back to post.

"I think so. It's been a long day and tomorrow starts way too early." She didn't want to admit, even to herself, how much she liked the feel of his hands on her body. He had big hands, and she could feel their warmth even through the layers of her clothing. Oh, my gods, her brain was screaming at her, what is wrong with me?

He nodded. "I know the feeling. Maybe someday I'll get to show you sunrise over the Pacific," he said, smiling down at her. He took her hand as they walked back up the steps, happy that she didn't seem to mind. She collected her bag from the table as he paid the tab.

Back in the car he switched on a jazz station. They drove back to the post in a very comfortable silence, neither of them feeling it necessary to speak. At the BEQ he opened her door and walked with her to the entrance, not really wanting to say good night.

"Again, thank you, for everything," she said.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said. He watched as she disappeared into the building and up the stairs, then turning, he got back in the car and drove to his office.


Computers, he thought as he switched on the one on his desk, certainly made things faster, but they would never compete with real police work. Real police work involved legwork and dead ends and more questions than answers until you found what you were looking for, as well as walking and talking and observing the people you were talking to, cataloging speech patterns and movement and manner, and sometimes just sheer dumb luck, until you had enough evidence to bring out the handcuffs and haul them off to booking. That's why in the bottom drawer of his desk were six thick file folders from the previous homicides. He took them out, spreading them across his desk, wondering what it was they'd missed.

Over the past three years, six women, ages 22 to 36, had died at the hands of the same person. The FBI profiler had given them a white male age 30 to 40, apparently one who had it in for prostitutes, possibly because of some odd religious compulsion, as all the women had been laid out as if crucified. The killer also took trophies, usually jewelry or underwear and always left his victims clothes neatly folded at least twenty feet from the bodies. So far the suspect had been careful enough to dump the bodies where the ocean would take care of any traces of DNA. It was the penchant for dumping bodies by the water that had Five-O worried. There were places in Hawaii where the waves came in like runaway trains, taking anything left on the beach with them as they retreated. Steve considered it as six bodies found and no telling how many washed out to sea.

Six bodies, no, make that seven. He got an empty folder and wrote 'PFC Tami Wilson" on the front. Then using his password and called up the HPD preliminary reports. He wrote the case number under her name then hit the 'print all documents' button. The printer whirred, and started spitting out the first case documents. He opened the first folder and started reading, once more going over the details, looking for the one thing that would lead him to the killer.

There was a knock on the door, and Williams entered. "I had a feeling you'd be here. How'd it go with the little sergeant?"

"Little sergeant? I suppose she is. She's a very interesting lady. Did that tall drink of water induce you to buy her a drink?" he asked.

"Yes. Several. We went to the NCO club. I suspect that woman could drink you, me, and Kono under the table. She scared me."

Steve raised an eyebrow; Danny ignored it and went on. "That is one tight bunch of females. They really have each other's backs. This one idiot came storming into the room, shouting about being kept out of loop, threatening everyone and everything. She shut him down fast. Said he was being disrespectful to the memory of that poor child and would he please let them get on with their job. The MP's finally threatened to haul him out bodily if he didn't comply. I suspect that tomorrow morning all four of those women are going to be in the CO's office".

"I think I met the same idiot earlier. That would be the First Sergeant. He seems to have a problem with women. Any possibility he could be a suspect?"

"Believe me that thought did cross my mind. I asked Sgt Yablanski about him; he hasn't been here long enough to be a suspect in the first four and he's got an alibi for when the girl went missing. General consensus is he's a total jerk who enjoys making everyone's life miserable."

"I knew it couldn't be that easy. Can't win 'em all." He took the papers off the printer and added them to the folder.

"Not this time anyway." Danny dropped the evidence envelope he'd been holding onto Steve's desk. "I've got the girl's address book, not that I think it's going to be much help, and a recent picture. According to the roommates it was taken when she was home on leave before she shipped out here."

Steve studied the picture. In it the girl looked younger than 19, pretty in a clean, well scrubbed sort of way. Around her neck was a chain with a small gold angel hanging from it. "The Angel Moroni," Steve muttered.

"What was that?" asked Danny.

"Sorry," he said. "This case is getting to me already. It's something Maggie mentioned earlier. The girl was wearing this pendant when she was killed. Add that to the list of stuff for pawnbrokers and fences, will you?"

"Maggie?" asked Williams.

Danny could have sworn Steve was blushing. "Sgt Alden".

"Ah, the little sergeant, and the description certainly fits. I didn't know the army took 'em that short. The first sergeant made the mistake of calling her 'Short Round' in Sgt Yablanski's earshot." He winced at the memory. Sgt Yablanski had used some rather colorful phrasing. "Those two have been friends for years. I suspect when both those women put their minds to anything, not much is going to stop them."

"Did you find anything else out about the two sergeants?"

Danny had a feeling that Steve was on a fishing expedition. "Just that Master Sergeant Yablanski is a photojournalist with more years in than she is willing to admit, has a daughter at Vassar, and that the Wilson girl worked directly for her but was on loan out to Sgt Alden for training. Hawaii is Sgt Alden's last tour of duty. She retires in less than two years, and, also according to Sgt Yablanski, Sgt Alden has been way too quiet since she got back from the Gulf War."

"I did notice that Sgt Alden had a chestful of interesting combat ribbons."

"Here I was thinking you were just looking at her interesting chest."

Steve gave him a warning look. "I have a feeling that if those two women get the slightest clue that girl is victim number seven they'll have it all over the front page of every military newspaper in the Pacific."

"You're right there. I got the impression they were very protective of their female troops, including that pair called the Twins."

"What's your take on those two? They're the closest thing we've got to witnesses."

"They seem reliable enough. They're layout designers and Sgt Yablanski says they're good at their job. They're also good at 'getting into more trouble than the merry pranksters on speed' and that's her quote, not mine."

"Well, you're only young once." He stretched and looked at this watch. "It's almost midnight. I'm calling it a day."

"Doc called. Autopsy's at eight. I'll meet you at the morgue."

"Not the best way to start off a morning. Let's get out of here."