Cal knew he had to tread carefully here if he wanted to keep his own secrets, because the moment Adam started his admission? Well, Cal had already been studying him, noting phrasing and body language, but that kicked things up in his head. Old lessons about behavioral analysis reared up in his mind and went into overdrive, drawing in everything about Adam as he spoke.
From his wording to his lack of eye contact to the spread of his fingers, it all spoke of anxiety over confessing, of remorse and guilt and hopelessness. But not acceptance, like Cal had seen in some convicts, not the sort of behavior that came from guilty men. "And I was convicted of trafficking heroin. Doesn't mean I did it," he said first, lips pursing thin as Cal adjusted his glasses. "Lemme ask you somethin', Adam. You think you're dangerous? Just you, your opinion. Not the courts' and not some lawyer's neither."