I PARK AS CLOSE AS I can to the back entrance to the police station, since it does not involve any steps. I help Helen out of the car, and she leans on my arm as we walk the short distance to the door. Once we’re at the door, I open it for her, still holding onto her.
“Tom,” she says. “Let me go.”
I’m confused by this request. “What?”
“I don’t want my officers to see me having to hold on to you,” she says.
“Why? Pride?”
She shakes her head. “No. Remember Kirk in Journey to Babel?”
I immediately understand. In that Star Trek episode, an injured Captain Kirk had to present himself as fit. It gave his crew confidence when they faced an attack shortly afterward.
“OK,” I say. “Take it slow. I’ll be right beside you.”
She takes a deep breath, then blows it out. “OK,” she says. “Let’s do
