Beatrice stood in the grocery store parking lot, her silver hair whipping in the wind as she loaded bags of groceries into the trunk of her car. The evening was settling in, and the wind was picking up. She tightened her cardigan around herself and closed the trunk with a resolute thud. A familiar red Chrysler pulled up beside her. She recognized the driver immediately—Tommy, Andy's former golfing buddy. Beatrice sighed inwardly, not in the mood for his usual overzealous greetings.

"Beatrice!" Tommy exclaimed, jumping out of the car and waving dramatically. His enthusiasm was met with Beatrice's practiced smile, hiding her irritation. How on earth a man could have so much energy at his age was beyond her.

"Tommy," she replied curtly, acknowledging him while wishing he would leave her in peace.

"Miss B, you need a hand with those bags?" Tommy asked with genuine concern, his brow creased with worry. "Where's Andy?"

Beatrice sighed, masking her frustration. "Tommy, I've got it covered. Andy's at home, dealing with some things."

Tommy's expression fell, embarrassed by his unintentional probing. "Oh, right. How is retirement coming? I haven’t seen him at the course lately."

Beatrice waved him off, trying to reassure him. “He’s fine, Tommy. Really. We’ve just been busy lately. Retirement is great. He will be back to golfing soon enough."

Tommy nodded gratefully, smiling at her. "Thank you, Miss B. Well, I'll let you get back to it. Give Andy my best wishes."

With a nod, Beatrice turned towards her car. Just before getting in, something caught her eye—a folded piece of paper tucked beneath the windshield wiper. Curiosity tinged with unease, she retrieved it and unfolded the note.

"I know your secret."

Her heart skipped a beat as she crumpled the note quickly and glanced around, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of surveillance. The parking lot seemed innocuous, ordinary people going about their business. Could this be a prank? Did Tommy leave it, despite her scrutiny of his every move? No, it couldn't be him.

Heart pounding, Beatrice decided to drive home immediately. The ten-minute journey felt interminable, every car behind her a potential threat. She pulled into their driveway and hurried inside, not bothering to unload the groceries. Andy met her with concern etched on his face.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked, moving to her side.

Beatrice stared up at him, noticing a patch of black hair sticking out from beneath his gray wig. "Fix your wig, Andrew," she hissed, her blue eyes blazing with disbelief. She reached up to cover the exposed hair before fishing the crumpled note out of her pocket and handing it to him. Andy's expression darkened as he read it, his shock mirroring hers. He looked up at her, pale and serious.

"You don't know who left this?" he asked quietly.

"No," Beatrice whispered, her voice tight with worry. "I thought it might be Tommy, but I watched him closely. It couldn't have been him."

Andy nodded slowly, his mind already spinning through the implications. "I think it's time we tied up some loose ends, then."

Beatrice nodded back, her thoughts racing. She stepped into the bathroom and began to peel away the layers of disguise she wore so carefully. The gray wig came off, revealing blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. It was a stark contrast to the persona she projected.

As she washed away the makeup, she shed not just the physical disguise, but the facade of a retired couple living a quiet life. Beatrice and Andy were not what they seemed—they were agents, deep undercover, their true identities known only to a select few.

In the stillness of their home, surrounded by the looming threat of exposure, Beatrice knew one thing for certain—they were in deeper than ever before. And whoever had left that note was about to find out just how dangerous the two of them could be when their secrets were threatened.