Scott Mathers was going snorkeling. He'd never been on such an awesome adventure in his entire life. Now, here he was with his family hustling through the Cyril E. King International Airport on St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands. The tiny enclave with its festive nightlife, duty-free shops, and clandestine beaches beckoned them from their Danbury, Connecticut home. There, a foot of snow blanketed the ground. But, it was a balmy eighty degrees on the island as their 747 descended through the fluffy white clouds.

The mood was jovial as the Mathers family extracted their luggage off the carousel in the baggage claim area. Exiting the crowded airport full of tourists from around the world, they hailed a safari to take them to their room at the Emerald Beach resort. The bed of the truck where they sat was equipped with customized bench seating.

Joshua Mathers had located the resort with its lush greenery, and access to a variety of wildlife that could be easily observed wandering the property, while scanning tripadvisor.com in the seclusion of his den. However, it was the sapphire-colored beach that convinced him the location was right for his family's getaway.

Mathers recalled the afternoon his son walked into the room without knocking on the door first and noticed him working on his computer.

"What'cha doing, Dad?" Scott casually questioned him.

"How does St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands grab your fancy, Scott-a-roo?" his father answered him.

Mathers also remembered how excited his fourteen-year-old became upon hearing the pronouncement.

"You know, tropical island. Fun in the sun. No snow," he elaborated.

Mathers noticed Scott's eyes grow larger with wonder the more he informed the teen of his plans. Caught up in what his dad was telling him, Scott found a chair and plopped down beside his father at the computer.

"Not a word to your mother or brother about what we are doing," Mathers warned the boy.

Scott drew an "X" over his heart with his finger.

"You won't get as much as one wee, little, peep out of me, Dad," Scott promised. Then, with great enthusiasm said, "I can't believe we're really going to St. Thomas!"

Now, here they were on the white beach. His toes buried in the sand, Scott noticed the tall sea grape trees off on the right side of the lagoon from where they stood. The shade the trees offered looked inviting. Ducks and green iguanas relaxed near a man-made pond on the other side.

Scott could see kayakers and windsurfers in the crystal clear water. He could not wait to jet ski and parasail. But, what he wanted to do most of all was snorkel the reef that extended out from the island. Scott had a secret he kept to himself. Soon, his family would be very rich.

Unbeknown to Scott, somebody else heard about the treasure, too. Someone who would bestow serious bodily harm on anyone who got in the way of getting those riches. Someone who'd spotted Scott in the lobby of the resort listening to what the desk clerk told them.

Ten yards away from the reef that drew Scott's attention, four bullets found their marks. Sharks hunting nearby would soon feast on a meal of human flesh. An airboat pulled up to the reef. The shooter lowered his AR-15 and moored the vessel. Making his way to the treasure, he turned the coral stone that covered the wealth and looked beneath it.

"Peace on Earth" was all it said.

Scott Mathers was going snorkeling. He'd never been on such an awesome adventure in his entire life.