Blood was able to find Mark Mastrullo’s address via Google White Pages. The house was in the suburbs of North Albany not far from The Light of the Earth church. We drove US Route 9 until we came to our first left. Then another left onto Fox Hollow Road-a street lined with the cutest variety of ranch-styled homes you ever did see, all of them sporting colorful aluminum or plastic siding. It was the kind of neighborhood where dads enjoyed mowing the lawn on Saturdays while the kids used the swing sets in the backyard and the wife trimmed the rose bushes, her hands covered in gardening gloves. A quiet, 1950’s American dream kind of neighborhood where something like divorce was still considered scandalous.
“This be it,” Blood said, leaning forward and pointing to a brown raised ranch.
Rath
