The doctor gestured to the closest couch. “Please have a seat.”

Max perched on the edge of a cushion as Dr. Francis deposited himself into a chair and then leaned his crutches against the arm. “That’s better. So what kind of answers can ‘only I provide’?”

The question made Max forget the Doctor’s queer appearance and forced him to get down to business. “Let’s start at the beginning. What is it that you do here?”

“Research, treatment and rehabilitation.”

“And who do you work for?”

“I work for the people that need my help but the man who employs me is Dr. Stephens.”

“First name?”

“Stephen.”

Max frowned. “Stephen Stephens? Isn’t that a little strange?”

“Well Stephen means crown, so maybe his parents desired him to be a king of kings.”

Max snorted in disdain.

Doctor Francis steepled his fingers. “But you didn’t come here to ask me about Dr. Stephens. You came for access to my patients. You’re a hunter looking for a murderer and you think that your murderer came from here, that he was one of mine.”