Senator Windslow appeared in a dark blue nylon workout suit with a curled up towel resting on his shoulders and his forehead beaded with sweat.

“I ride my stationary bike for an hour every morning,” he explained. “Gives me a chance to exercise while I read the papers and watch the news.”

Storm followed him through a side door into a wood-paneled study where the maid had placed a pot of coffee and two mugs on a table edged by three leather chairs. They matched the brown leather chairs in Windslow’s office. Storm spotted another pair of Longhorn steer horns mounted on the wall, just like the ones that he’d seen on Capitol Hill. Obviously, the senator’s decorating taste was the same whether he was at home or work.

“Hattie, our housekeeper, fetches me the newspapers each morning from the box at our gates while I’m exercising,” Windslow said, as he poured himself coffee and took a seat. He nodded at Storm, indicating that he could pour himself a cup, too, if he wished. “This morning,” Windslow said, “Hattie found this at the gate.”

Windslow nodded toward an opened manila envelope on the coffee table, along with a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

“Has anyone checked the note for prints?” Storm asked.

“No. Put on those gloves there before you handle it. I had Hattie get them from the kitchen.”

Storm pulled on the gloves. They were tight. He removed the letter and asked, “Does your wife know about this new demand?”

Windslow shook his head. “She’s still sleeping upstairs in her bedroom.”

Her bedroom. He hadn’t said “our bedroom.”Apparently using different staircases was not the only thing that the couple did separately.

This new note-the third from the kidnappers-looked much like the first ransom demand. It was handwritten in block letters and contained specific instructions.