The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of wonder. ~Ralph W. Sockman

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the Medical Examiner's office, Steve leading the way through to where Dr. Max Bergman waited with a native man in a subtle Hawaiian shirt, and a Naval officer in blue fatigues.

"This is Max Bergman, and Chin Ho Kelly of HPD," Steve said, indicating them in turn. "And this is Lieutenant Catherine Rollins," Steve said, kissing the woman with the dark hair on the cheek. "This is Danny Williams. Photographer and I.N.C. agent."

Greetings were exchanged, Danny watching the interaction between Steve and Lt Rollins. There was history there but it wasn't recent. At least a small part of Danny's brain insisted it was all in the very distant past – years ago, really.

"I didn't know you were the investigator, Cath," Steve said when they were all sitting at round table in Max's very crowded office.

"Command requested I take it on. You don't mind, do you?" she asked.

"Why would I mind? I know you'll help us get to the bottom of it," Steve said.

"Can you review with me how you determined all of the murders were related?" Danny asked Max who nodded.

"Certainly. It was not until the third victim, Lieutenant Roman Costas, was discovered did I begin to see a connection."

"Costas was stabbed?" Chin asked, taking the picture from Max.

"He was. By someone taller. Markus Amukmara was shot from close range, also by a taller assailant. Christopher Hopkins was electrocuted in his bathtub. He was fully clothed at the time of his murder."

"What number was Hopkins?" Danny asked.

"He was the first victim," Max said. "Victim number two was David Flannigan. He'd only been in Hawaii three days when he was found dead in his hotel."

"Which was that COD?" Chin asked.

"He was suffocated," Max said. "There were trace amounts of barbules in his throat and lungs."

"A feather pillow," Lt Rollins said with a flinch.

"Indeed," Max said.

"So the murders were all personal," Steve said.

"There was also evidence that each of the men had recently had penetrative intercourse," Max said.

"Was it consensual?" Danny asked, surprised by this new development.

"There were no ligature marks on any of the victims. Nor was there bruising of the type indicative of a struggle," Max said.

"If they'd just had sex, you were able to collect DNA," Steve said.

"Sadly, I was not, Commander," Max said. "While some lubrication remained, the intercourse occurred with a condom in place. Each of the victims had showered following copulation."

"Even Raymond Manuel?" Danny asked. "He had sex, took a shower then climbed all the way up to the top of Lewa Puka Trail?"

"There was insufficient dust on his boots for him to have climbed the steps," Max corrected. "I theorize that he was flown to the Trail and dumped out of a helicopter."

"Was he dead before he landed?" Lt. Rollins asked.

"He was not," Max said. "But there was a high level of alcohol in his system."

"It says here he didn't drink," Chin said, pointing to the report on Manuel's death.

"Then less alcohol would have been required to subdue or sedate him," Max said.

"How could anyone fly a helicopter to the top of Lewa Puka Trail and not be seen?" Danny asked no one in particular.

"The trail isn't patrolled at night," Chin said. "If the helicopter was there after the park closed, who would have seen it?"

"There must be a way to trace the helicopter," Danny said.

"The islands have hundreds of helicopters," Steve said. "It would be impossible to trace the whereabouts of every single one."

"Especially one flown by someone determined not to be found," Chin had to agree.

"What was he doing the day he died?" Danny asked. "Was he on base?"

"He took a day of leave," Lt Rollins said, referring them to one of the print-outs she had provided. "He asked his C.O. for a 24 hour pass. It was granted because Manuel rarely asked off. His C.O. said he was contentious almost to a fault."

"You can be too dedicated?" Danny asked, glancing at the report Lt Rollins indicated.

"It's important to try to maintain some balance," Steve said. "We can forgot there is more to life than being a SEAL."

"Does that describe Manuel?" Chin asked.

"From all reports," Lt Rollins confirmed. "I'd never met him but everyone I spoke with said he was an exemplary officer, a representation of what every SEAL should be."

"Do you think the fact that he was involved with another man had something to do with his murder? With all their murders?" Danny asked. He didn't want to sound disapproving because he certainly wasn't. And he was a lot of things but a hypocrite was not one of them.

"We aren't homophobic if that's what you're implying," Steve said, his voice and posture stiff.

"You aren't, Steve. But you know there are those who fought the repeal of don't ask, don't tell," Lt Rollins pointed.

"We can't be sure that their choice of sexual partner even factored into it," Chin reminded them.

"It must have," Danny said, not wanting to openly contradict the Detective. Who could ever willingly disagree with Chin and his calm, aloha demeanor? "It isn't a coincidence that they had all engaged in sex right before being murdered.

"I don't believe in coincidences," Chin agreed. "They take a lot of planning."

"That's been my experience," Danny agreed. "Since he was off base, there's no way to trace his activities?"

"There isn't," Lt Rollins said. "Which one was victim number five?" she asked, looking at the photos of the dead SEALs.

"Kenneth Morgan," Max said, pointing at his picture. "He died of a fractured skull."

"Weapon?" Lt Rollins asked.

"Indeterminate," Max said. "No object was found on the beach where his body was discovered. It was a relatively small object, no larger than a standard household hammer."

They all flinched at that, not wanting to consider the suffering he endured while being murdered with a hammer.

"Were they all on leave when they were murdered?" Danny asked, looking at each picture of the SEALs in their uniforms. They looked strong and determined and hardly the type to be murdered by an unknown assailant.

"Flannigan wasn't. He was staying in the hotel because Command didn't want anyone to know he was here. He was preparing for a need-to-know mission," Lt Rollins said.

"Only four people knew he was on the island," Danny said, recalling the brief I.N.C. had provided to him. "And they have alibis."

"We got the hotel phone records in addition to his cell phone. Flannigan made two calls from the hotel to a burner phone," Chin said. "We checked the security footage. The manager said everyone on it was a guest of the hotel. We have no idea how the murdered got into or out of Flannigan's room."

"He must have called the murderer and told him he was here," Danny said, glancing over at Steve. "Wouldn't that be a violation of protocol?"

"It would," Steve said. "He was essentially on lock-down. That means no outside contact."

"Where does this leave us?" Chin asked.

They all looked at Danny who was studying the files of each victim. "And you're sure they were all murdered by the same person?" Danny asked.

"There is a 89.5% probability," Max said.

"A 89.5%?" Danny asked.

"Factoring in commonalities, I am certain that they were killed by the same person," Max said. "He knows the ways of the SEALs, is strong enough to kill six highly trained personnel, and has undergone extensive training himself. In addition to the traces of recent intercourse, each of the victims was of a type," Max said.

"A type," Danny repeated.

"They were all between five feet eight and five feet eleven, all had dark hair and light color eyes."

"So the murderer has to be six feet or taller," Chin said.

"That is my professional assessment," Max agreed.

"Is he a SEAL?" Steve asked, knowing the working theory was that the murderer was one of their own. But he wanted it to not be confirmed.

"I believe so, Commander," Max said. "I am uncertain how he would have succeeded otherwise."

"And he wouldn't have gotten to know the six victims well enough to be intimate if he weren't a SEAL," Lt. Rollins added.

"Why was the fact that they had had sex omitted from the original reports?" Danny asked.

"My…supervisor did the preliminary autopsies," Max said. "He is somewhat…old fashioned. He did not wish to possibly shame the families of the SEALs by including it in the official reports."

"Were they married?" Danny asked, not remembering any spouses listed.

"They were not. However, Dr. Clifton was concerned that the Navy might not bury them with full honors were it revealed that they were engaged in acts of homosexuality," Max said.

They went back over the details of the murders and all of the implications, Danny jotting notes on some paper Max had given him. Chin asked about all the other phone records, Lt Rollins providing a printout of the call histories. Each phone had been called by at least one burner phone, no way to trace the origins. The calls from burners were made from several different numbers and never at the same time of day.

Danny listened to all of the facts as they emerged, writing down words and sketching vague images. There was a pattern, if he could just puzzle it out. It was at the edge of his vision, indistinct and too distant to clearly see. But it was there, he was sure of it.

"Danny?" Steve said, touching him lightly.

"Yeah?" Danny said, focusing on Steve.

"Anything else you need to discuss?" Steve asked, all eyes turned toward Danny.

He thought he saw a hint of concern but wasn't certain. Nor could he understand why they would be looking at him like that. "Not right now," Danny said.

"Is there anything else you can tell us that isn't in the official reports?" Lt Rollins asked.

"I have given you all the information in my possession," Max confirmed.

"And they didn't serve together?" Danny asked her.

"Not as far as I can discover. Some of their missions are classified. I cross-checked as thoroughly as I could. They may have been in the same place at the same time but they never officially served on the same team," Lt Rollins said.

"So we're not any closer to finding the murderer," Steve said in exasperation.

"He seems to become invisible," Chin said.

"We have piece the puzzle together. There has to be a common element. I need to think over the facts that we have," Danny said. "I suggest we meet again on Friday. We won't shooting then."

They readily agreed with his suggestion, all of them wanting to stop the murderer before he could strike again. They would reconvene at Max's on Friday unless there was a compelling reason for them to meet sooner.

Danny was unusually quiet as Steve drove them out of downtown, wrapped in his own thoughts. What was it trying to percolate to the top of his brain? He'd probably dream of it, or the pieces would fall into place when he wasn't actively thinking about the case.

"Wait," Danny said when Steve turned onto his street. "Where are we going?"

"My house," Steve said.

"You should take me to the hotel," Danny said. "And I said I'd take you out to dinner."

"You don't need to spend the night in that hotel," Steve said. "I still have plenty of food to feed you."

"All of it with pineapple?" Danny asked, looking over at Steve. A smile slowly covered his face, contentment painted on his entire body.

"Of course. I even have pineapple flavored lube," Steve said with a suggestive smile.

"Lube," Danny said, overtaken by regret for the loss of life.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Steve said in realization.

"It's such a waste," Danny said. "Why would anyone do that?"

"I can't imagine," Steve said, pulling into his driveway. "We'll figure it out," Steve assured him. "Food will help."

"Six murders in just over six weeks. Hardly seems possible. And no idea who's doing it," Danny said, shaking his head.

"The victims wouldn't have talked about who they had had relations with," Steve pointed out.

"The Navy isn't exactly a hot-bed of social progressiveness," Danny agreed.

"It's better than it used to be," Steve said. "But there is still work to be done."

"Lt Rollins seems…"

"What?" Steve asked, looking down at Danny with one cocked eyebrow. "She seems what?"

"Professional. And that you two have a history," Danny said.

Steve shrugged at that, opening his refrigerator. "Fish or chicken?"

"I don't care," Danny said, leaning against one of the cabinets. "I do need a beer."

"I hear that," Steve said, giving a frosty one to Danny and keeping one for himself. "You want this chicken broiled or grilled?"

"Grilled. Nothing like it," Danny said, following Steve into the backyard. "So you and the beautiful Lt Rollins."

"You always this nosey?"

"If things go according to plan, we'll be in-laws," Danny laughed.

"You have gone around the bend," Steve said, starting the grill.

"We aren't going to have relations?" Danny teased.

"Not if you keep going on like this," Steve warned.

"You don't scare me," Danny told him, both of them feeling lighter for the teasing. It helped to put aside the heaviness of the SEAL murders.

They traded light-hearted threats and insults as Steve cooked their dinner, including some grilled vegetables with a sprinkling of oil.

"That's not some weird island coconut oil is it?" Danny asked as he 'supervised.'

"Coconut oil?" Steve repeated. "Like the kind in suntan lotion?"

"I can never be too sure with you."

"It's olive oil, Danno. Plain, everyday olive oil."

"That's all right then," Danny said, looking out over the ocean. "You know what would make a cool Christmas photo?"

"What's that?" Steve asked, sitting back by him.

"Stringing your friend's sailing yacht with lights."

"Kind of cliché, don't you think?" Steve asked.

"Maybe," Danny said with a shrug. "But it is beautiful."

"Will the models show up if they are in the dark?"

"Mmm… I think we can make it work. Does your friend have a run-about that we can use to take the pictures?"

"He does," Steve confirmed.

"You need to tell him we're using his yacht. And that we'll reimburse him for the fuel."

"I emailed him this morning," Steve said. "He said it's fine. He's in Japan. It's free for our use for as long as we need it."

"That's convenient," Danny said. "We'll still refill his tank."

"He'll appreciate it, but it's not necessary," Steve said.

Danny waved that away, gesturing with his beer toward the grill. "Dinner done yet?"

"No," Steve said, drinking from his bottle. "Few more minutes. I'd hate for either of us to get salmonella before having 'relations.'"

"When I was growing up back in Jersey, there was a guy named Sal Manella who owned a poultry store," Danny said, making Steve laugh.

"You are making that up."

"I swear, hand to God, his name was Salvestro Manella. We tried telling him to go by Salvestro but he couldn't understand why we said that. So we'd go to Sal Manella's store to buy our chickens."

"Anyone ever get salmonella from the store?" Steve laughed.

"Not as far as I know. He was an excellent butcher. Great poultry man. Unfortunate name."

"I'll say," Steve agreed.

"Since we don't have to start work tomorrow, could you fly us to Punalu'u Beach?" Danny asked.

"What makes you think I can fly a helicopter?" Steve asked in return.

"Oh please. Mr. Super SEAL himself? Of course you can fly a helicopter."

Steve shrugged innocently at that, sipping his beer.

"So. Can you?"

"I'll have to call around to see if anyone has a chopper that's not tied up. Can you expense the fuel? Won't be cheap."

"The magazine told me to try it so they can pay for the trip," Danny said.

"Makes sense. I'll see what I can do," Steve said.

"Your friend with the yacht? He doesn't have a chopper too?"

"No, he doesn't have a helicopter," Steve said with a laugh.

"But you know people who do," Danny prompted.

"Yes," Steve agreed. "I said I'll see what I can do."

"Yes you did," Danny said with a smile over at Steve.

"Where are we doing the first shoot on Wednesday?" Steve asked into the comfortable silence.

"On the beach. Easier to get to know the models on solid ground. We'll spend the day there, getting comfortable with each other. We'll spend Thursday there too. Since now I'm shooting a calendar and a layout."

"Then to the reef?" Steve asked.

"We'll take Friday off. We'll need a day away from the models."

Steve laughed at that, Danny shaking his head.

"Oh trust me. You'll be begging to get away from them," Danny warned.

"Okay," Steve said, still laughing.

"We'll use Saturday and Sunday for the reef. If we can arrange the Christmas lights, we'll do that Saturday night. Monday we won't be shooting but I'll review all the photos and do reshoots on Tuesday at the beach, on the yacht Wednesday."

"Reshoots," Steve said, considering it.

"There are always reshoots. I can make some corrections on the computer but if the models fade against the waves, we need to reshoot them."

"That makes sense," Steve said. "Will we be diving on Wednesday again?"

"I don't think we will. Underwater shoots are iffy at best. If they come out, I'll use them. If not, no harm, no foul."

"If we're going to be on the yacht late Saturday, we'll need food."

"There is that," Danny agreed. "Will Kamekona come with us?"

"Probably," Steve said. "We'll call tomorrow and ask him."

"Good. We can rent the scuba equipment from your friend Saturday morning."

"Or we can get it Friday night," Steve suggested.

"That would make things go quicker Saturday. Of course, the models have a hard time getting to the location on time so I move up the 'go time' by half an hour."

Steve laughed at that. "They have a lot of primping to do, I'd guess."

"They're in their own little world," Danny said with a shrug. "We'll take seven on the yacht Saturday, and seven on Sunday. Having all fourteen at one time would be a logistical nightmare."

"How many support?"

"Hairdressers, make-up, lighting, Kamekona, dressers, you, me. You'll drive the boat?"

"If that's what you want," Steve agreed.

"Sixteen altogether isn't too many, right?"

"It will be fine. Stan told me he has 20 life jackets so we'll be in compliance."

"We don't have to wear them the entire time, do we?" Danny asked.

"We should but that would make your photo shoot useless," Steve acknowledged.

"Completely," Danny agreed, watching Steve go to the grill to check their dinner. He couldn't keep his eyes off Steve and didn't bother to try. "We ready?"

"We are. You want to run in for plates and silverware?"

"Sure," Danny agreed.

Steve put the food on a platter as Danny returned to the house. It didn't take long before they were both sitting at the table, digging into the delicious meal.

"As much as I want to have 'relations' with you, it doesn't feel right to start tonight," Danny said thoughtfully, studying his chicken.

"I get that," Steve agreed. "I'm not feeling particularly sexy myself."

"You look sexy. Sex on legs, that's what you are," Danny told him.

"You have gone around the bend," Steve said.

"Who was it earlier today that was being fawned over by the owner of the island's most successful modeling agency?"

"She was just being nice," Steve said, refusing to meet Danny's laughing blue eyes.

"No, she most certainly wasn't," Danny informed him. "She was serious. She wants you to model."

"What will the magazine say? The pictures are to fuel male sexual fantasies. I hardly qualify for that."

"Oh ho. That is where you are wrong, my friend. You can drag men to the other side just with your looks."

"Stop," Steve said, sounding as embarrassed as he looked. "Just stop."

"I'll stop. Doesn't make it any less true," Danny told him.

"If you'll not talk about it, that will be good enough," Steve decided.

"All right," Danny said. "If you don't find a helicopter, what should we do tomorrow?"

"You're the visitor. What do you want to do?"

"I need to go to Pearl," Danny said. "It's important to pay proper respect. And I'd like some pictures of it."

"Paying respect is important," Steve agreed. "I can go to my father's grave while we're there."

"We should get some flowers," Danny decided.

"That would be nice," Steve said. "Do you surf?"

"I've tried. I'm really bad at it," Danny said with a shrug.

"I'll help you," Steve said. "And Kono's bio said she used to be a professional surfer. What do you think of taking some shots of her surfing?"

"Can I do that if I don't surf very well? I don't want to get in her way."

"We'll talk to her and see how she feels about it. You can probably paddle out far enough to be able to see her and not be in her way," Steve said.

"That would be an excellent perspective," Danny agreed. "I need to get Grace a present."

"Just one," Steve said with a laugh.

"Several," Danny admitted. "I doubt you're the shopping type so I can do that by myself."

"I don't mind. I can help you pick out some boardies so you don't look like a total tourist," Steve decided.

"There is nothing wrong with my swim trunks."

"Except they are old man trunks," Steve informed him.

"I guess you expect me to wear flip flops as well," Danny said.

"Slippahs," Steve corrected, making Danny frown at him.

"Doesn't matter. I'm not wearing them."

"You can't wear loafers on the beach," Steve said.

"I'm not planning to. I'm planning to be barefoot during the photo shoot."

Steve shook his head at the other man's stubbornness, not that he was surprised. He may not have known Danny very long, but he knew him well enough to know he was hard-headed. He could admit to himself it was a trait they shared.

"I should go," Danny said when they'd been sitting out for a couple of hours, shooting the breeze.

"I can take you if you want," Steve said.

"All right. Since you've been drinking mostly water. And you'll pick me up in the morning?"

"Sure. What time?" Steve asked as they went through the house to Steve's truck.

"Mmm… 9? That way I can catch a few extra zzzs."

"Who says catch zzzs?" Steve asked. "Old men, that's who."

"When did you decide that I'm an old man?" Danny asked with a laugh.

"You are. You are an old soul," Steve told him with a smile as he started his truck.

Danny just shrugged, not bothering to contradict him.

They didn't find too much more to argue about before Steve dropped Danny off at the hotel. Danny had a hard time saying good night to him, torn between wanting to jump back in the truck, and going up to his room. The second choice was the smart one. The first was the more pleasing one.

"I'll see you in the morning," Steve said as he leaned up against his truck, looking more delicious than ever.

"Get out of here, please," Danny said, turning to go into the hotel. He stopped when a familiar tanned hand landed on his arm. "What?"

"This," Steve said, leaning down to give him the lightest of kisses on the mouth.

Danny couldn't stop his smile if he wanted to. He was smiling still as Steve swaggered back to his truck and drove away.

You are in so much trouble, Danny told himself as he rode up the elevator to his room.

Once he arrived, he sat down with his computer to look at the pictures he'd taken of Steve at the reef. One of them was spectacular – the way the water splintered the light, the way Steve seemed to be suspended in the shafts of sunshine, the look on his face as he watched a colorful fish swim by. Danny knew, if he could get away with it, that picture would be in the calendar. If the magazine vetoed it, Danny would use it as the home page for his website.

He sent the photo to Steve, telling him how beautiful he thought it was, and that Steve needed to sign the attached waiver so Danny could sell his image whenever or wherever he wanted.

"What do I get out of it?" Steve emailed back with an annoying smiley face embedded.

"My eternal gratitude," Danny replied.

"Done," Steve said.

"Good," Danny emailed. "Good night."

"Good night, old man," Steve replied, making Danny laugh.

Rather than giving into temptation, Danny shut down his computer, pulling out the notes he'd taken during the meeting at Max's office. He was surprised to discover that he'd written six weeks repeatedly. He didn't remember writing those two words that many times but there they were in his handwriting. Six weeks, he thought. What is it about six weeks?

He reread the reports he'd gotten from the others, none of the information shedding any further light on a possible solution. But still it felt as though the answer was right there in front of him, hidden in plain view. It was not an unusual feeling but it was disturbing. When the key was just out of his reach, it usually meant he was overlooking an essential element, a fact that could unravel it all.

He pulled his phone out when it vibrated, finding a text from Steve.

No chopper tomorrow. Monday?

Sure, Danny replied. Shopping and Pearl tomorrow.

Check. Relations?

Is that your idea of sexting? Danny asked.

No. my idea of sexting is illegal in most states and the district of columbia

Ahhh… never mind then, Danny said, laughing to himself.

You didn't answer my question, Steve reminded him.

Relations maybe. In exchange for the waiver.

Too late. I emailed it back, Steve said.

Hmmm… a compromise can surely be worked out.

I like compromises. And compromising positions.

I'm sure you do, Danny returned. I'm turning my phoen off now.

No you won't. grace might need you.

It's the middle of the night in NYC, Danny reminded him.

it's 5 am.

Wtevr. Go to bed.

C u 9 am.

See you then, Danny agreed, waiting but not receiving another text. God when had he turned into a teenage boy? When he met Steve McGarrett, that's when.