There were a lot of people that thought they knew about crime. Maybe they watched highly paid actors wave fake badges across a screen, or read about the travails of hard bitten PIs in mass market paperbacks, or worst of all, feasted on the mind numbing plague that was evening news. Which made it all the more hilarious to Bea how few people actually understood what sorts of crime was happening all around them. And they should know. One of the largest arteries that flowed into and out of Sacramento, I5, was one of the richest stretches of human trafficking in the entire continent. Not to mention guns and drugs, though even those paled in comparison to the flow of chattle that was swept up and down the West Coast.
Kindred on the other side of the country were probably blushing in furious envy at the thought...
Though, come to that, there was plenty of chattle just milling around Sacramento without even tapping into that bellicose, corrupting vein. Hell, Bea was staring at about fifteen thousand pairs of glassy eyes and bared throats now. Yeah, the Golden 1 Center was prime hunting grounds. Events almost every day, drawing people of every description to it like a horde of stags running towards a forest of salt licks. Then throw in every possible combination of alcohol and sugar and you got the largest selection of vintage that Bea could think of. Maybe not top shelf, but close enough for her tastes. Maybe in a decade or two and she'd have more of an appreciation of quality over quantity...
For now, though, she was content just to watch the crowd as it slowly funneled out of the stadium. Content to watch and savor, basking in the anticipation of a feast that was only a thin layer of flesh away...