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inspect.
    • • •
    DESPITE HIS HEFTY size and intimidating physique, Sam was a tender, inquisitive soul—one who saw the world through a unique frog-fascinated prism.
    He had spent much of the last year tromping through the lower hills of the Sierra Nevada, communing with his beloved amphibians as he took notes on their numbers, movements, and habitat preferences for a research team based out of UC Davis.
    During that time, word of Sam’s uncanny insights into his slimy-skinned brethren had spread far and wide. Among the state’s wildlife biologists, his stature had rapidly risen to near-legendary status.
    So when the Academy became concerned about the stars of its latest showcase amphibian exhibit, a call had gone out urgently requesting Sam’s consultation.
    • • •
    THE ECCENTRIC FROG-MAN certainly looked the part. His broad shoulders were clothed in a grubby T-shirt that hadn’t been washed in several wearings. The shirt was, in any case, fresher than Sam, who had gone even longer since his last shower.
    Over the T-shirt, Sam wore a frayed green vest with a circular patch sewn onto its right chest pocket. He beamed with pride as a passerby squinted to read the writing embroidered beneath the caricatured image of a smiling frog.
    The first line of text bore his formal title: Samuel T. Eckles, Amphibian Consultant.
    But he was known throughout the wildlife biology community by his more informal designation, the tagline that had been inscribed just beneath.
    The Frog Whisperer.
    • • •
    CONFIDENTLY, SAM APPROACHED the glass-fronted entrance and presented his credentials to the attendant seated inside the ticket booth.
    “Welcome, Mr. Eckles.” The man greeted him with a smile of recognition. He’d been told to be on the lookout for the grubby mountain man. He slid a laminated visitor’s pass through the opening at the bottom of the window and motioned for Sam to clip it to his vest.
    “Dr. Kline will meet you inside by the dinosaur,” he shouted in an effort to be heard over the noisy group of schoolchildren who had just approached the booth.
    “Thanks,” Sam replied with a wary glance at the hyperactive youngsters. He swiftly scooped up the visitor’s pass and hurried inside.
    • • •
    THE DINOSAUR WAS easy to locate. The creature’s bony head almost touched the atrium’s twenty-foot-high glass ceiling; its long, curving tail swept down to just a foot off the ground.
    With a nervous tug at his vest, Sam parked himself beneath the skeleton.
    So far, everything was going according to plan. His cover was working perfectly.
    After several successful consults with Academy scientists out in the field, he had finally been brought into the main headquarters—the mother ship, so to speak.
    No one had any reason to suspect that he was there to do anything other than diagnose the illness of a pair of seemingly off-color amphibians; no one could possibly guess the real purpose of his mission.
    • • •
    JUST AS SAM was starting to relax into his undercover role, an eerie sensation swept over his psyche. The sunlit room took on a cooling shadow, and an anxious tension crept over his body.
    He turned a slow circle, his eyes warily scanning the room. With all the time he’d spent outdoors, observing both predator and prey, his finely tuned naturalist’s skills were quick to discern when he was the one being watched.
    After a minute of careful surveillance, he shook his head, trying to dismiss the unsettled feeling.
    “Probably just my imagination,” he tried to assure himself.
    He glared sharply up at the empty eye sockets in the dinosaur’s skull and added an admonishment.
    “But I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me.”
    • • •
    SAM WAS STILL trying to calm his nerves when a boy of about three bounced across the atrium toward the dinosaur. The tyke’s shoes lit up each time his soles hit the floor.
    “Dangerously unpredictable creature,” Sam muttered as he began