I sat down slowly in the chair opposite her. I could picture a dozen conversations we'd had about county government, administrative rules, and why documents mattered. Suddenly they all sounded different.
"The district attorney whose name appears on those courthouse announcements?"
She gave a small, unhappy smile. "That's the one."
"Maria, I thought you might be a paralegal."
"You never asked if I was a paralegal."
"No, because I thought the person I was dating would probably mention that she was the county's top criminal prosecutor before she started keeping a toothbrush in my bathroom."
She took that without interrupting. I appreciated it, though appreciation wasn't the strongest feeling in the room.
"I should have told you sooner," she said. "I know that. My work has been public for years, but I didn't want it to become the first thing you saw when you looked at me. When we met, you asked about my coffee and my day, not my office. It was a relief. Then I waited too long to explain."
I stood and walked to the window. On the street, the association's decorative lights were coming on one by one. A golf cart rolled past carrying two residents home from the clubhouse.
"How much did you know about Willowbrook?" I asked.
Maria didn't answer immediately. "My office has been reviewing complaints about association fraud in this region for nearly two years. Willowbrook has been one of the more serious matters under examination."
I turned around. "You knew?"
"I knew there were allegations. I didn't know everything you found, and I haven't been able to discuss the investigation with you."
"Did you start dating me because I lived here?"
Her face changed. She set down the mug.
"No. Riley, no. I met you because the cafe's card reader broke, and you were kind to a stranger before you knew anything about her. I never approached you as an investigator. I wouldn't do that."
"But you've been watching me build a case against a woman your office was already investigating."
"I've been watching you try to protect your home. There's a difference. When I realized your association was connected to an open investigation, I disclosed the relationship through the appropriate ethics process. I stepped away from decisions involving Willowbrook and anything touching your personal complaints. An outside prosecutor is reviewing state matters that could present a conflict, and federal authorities make their own decisions if federal offenses are established."
I stared at her. "You recused yourself?"
"Yes. I couldn't be the prosecutor in a case where a person I love is a central witness. That would be unfair to you, to the accused, and to the public. It would also put the case at risk."
I didn't know which part of the sentence had unsettled me more: the recusal or the casual certainty with which she had said the word love.
Maria seemed to realize it too. She held my eyes and didn't try to take it back.
"I should have told you who I was," she said. "But I won't pretend I had a right to hand you confidential files because we're together. I didn't. And I still don't."