Ted jogged his usual morning route on Harper’s Bridge, sweat pouring down the nape of his neck from the summer heat. Screeching tires stopped him. A car veered, plunging into the river.
Ted, with his strong swimming abilities, dove in to assist. He reached the car, kicking frantically at the window until it shattered. The stunned woman was awkward in his arms as he struggled to shore, his left hand grasping her waist.
On land, Ted pushed aside the woman’s brown hair, checking for injuries. That face. Those cheekbones. She was the boss’s daughter, Tracey, with whom he’d had an affair.