Returning to Kaua‘i, park ranger Makalani finds her family divided and their way of life at risk in this rich and emotional adventure by the bestselling author of the Lily Wong series.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Tori Eldridge’s Kaua’i Storm, which is out May 20th 2025.
After ten years as a national park ranger in Oregon, Makalani Pahukula is back on Kaua‘i for her grandmother’s birthday. Having been gone for so long, Makalani finds the disconnect with her people and her struggles have never been more profound. Neither has her need to reacquaint herself with everything she left behind. When she reaches the homestead, she finds a bickering family and the disconcerting news that her cousins―a failed college football player and a rebellious teenage girl―have gone missing.
Makalani hopes they just ran off, too careless to realize the worry they’ve caused. But when hunters find a dead body in the Keālia Forest Reserve, Makalani fears something ominous is at play, and the search for her cousins grows more desperate. Although her help may not be welcomed by family and locals, Makalani is determined to solve a mystery that poses a greater risk than anyone imagines.
The investigation will open her heart, reawaken her love for the land she calls home, and strengthen her bond with her family. Because no matter how long she’s been away, for Makalani, Hawai‘i is in her blood.
CHAPTER ONE
Giant fronds of hāpuʻu ferns whipped Makalani’s face as she plowed through the Kaua‘i rainforest away from the men. They had emerged from the jungle like a pack of wild dogs, barking commands to find, catch, kill.
“Ovah dea,” a man yelled, then pumped his shotgun with a distinctive ka-chunk.
Makalani dived into the red-spotted ‘ama‘u ferns seconds before pellets shredded the leaves.
A centipede crept toward her nose. She blew it away. She wasn’t dead yet.
The pistol holstered inside her waistband dug into her ribs, but as she rolled onto her hip, another blast peppered the fronds overhead. She left the weapon in place and scurried through the plants. Even an armed ranger needed better cover for a firefight than ferns.
“You get um?” a man yelled. Makalani didn’t wait for the reply.
Staying as low as her near-six-foot frame would allow, she barreled through the undergrowth toward the darker shadows beneath the thick canopy of ʻōhiʻa lehua and koa trees. Because of her size, her pursuers had mistaken her for a man. That same size made it harder to slip between bushes without rustling the leaves. Not for the first time, she wished she had inherited her mother’s slender grace.
Tori Eldridge
Who am I kidding? If I were more like Māmā, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Recriminations assaulted her with every lumbering step—if she had stayed in the islands, if she had tried to belong, if she had honored her responsibility to her family and their land . . . If she had not gone to the mainland, she would have known what was happening with her ‘ohana before it all went to hell.
Stop it, Makalani. You’re a federal officer. You know better than this. She shoved down the “ifs” and focused on the facts. Five people had been at the camp. At least four had pursued. Aside from the shotgun and probably machetes, she didn’t know what weapons they had. She needed more distance and the cover of high ground before she could even consider engaging in a fight. Although trained in firearms, Makalani had never drawn her weapon against a person before. Her peace officer duties at Crater Lake National Park mostly consisted of traffic violations, theft, or the occasional brawl. The adjacent village where park employees lived and visitors lodged was almost as sleepy as her hometown in Kaua‘i—or rather, as sleepy as she had always believed her hometown to be. The
weeklong reunion for Tūtū’s birthday had obliterated that belief.
“I see shaking by da big tree,” a new voice yelled, followed by hoots of encouragement and hacking through brush.
Makalani charged through the foliage, knees jarring as she landed unexpectedly on the unfamiliar terrain.
I am kanaka maoli, she reminded herself. This is my ‘āina, no matter how long I’ve been gone.
Despite her years on the mainland, the blood of her Hawaiian ancestors ran through her veins. Her kūpuna had thrived in these forests from the mountains to the sea. Makalani had done the same, returning to the forest whenever her discomfort with people became too much to bear. Although she cared for, policed, and sometimes rescued the two-legged visitors in her national park, her primary kuleana was to the natural resources, the animals, and the land. She had accepted this
Kaua‘i Storm
sacred responsibility. Whether in Oregon or Hawai‘i, the forests were her home.
Tears of regret rolled down her cheeks.
If only I had placed my kuleana to family above all.
She bolted ahead, sank her boot into a hole, and pitched forward into a tree. She froze, hands on bark, a hairbreadth from having broken her shin. Behind her, the men argued about where she had gone. In open sunlight, her trail would have been as obvious as a road. With dark clouds above the canopy, she might still have a chance.
She dislodged her boot and cut through a sparser patch of shrubs. She moved even faster through the grove of invasive strawberry guava trees. Swinging her arms from one trunk to the next, she jogged, ran, and slid like a pinball, bouncing off obstacles as she careened down the hill. Clawing at the mud to straighten her slide, she plunged, feetfirst, through the wood rot of a decaying fallen tree.
Air left her in a whoosh.
Makalani twisted her head and checked up the slope. No signs of pursuit. She inhaled deeply and sighed.
As she brushed the bugs from her pants and pulled out her boot, the rotted stump crumbled, and she slid into the swelling stream. The treacherous Oregon wilderness wasn’t as slippery as the Keālia Forest Reserve. It also wasn’t as prone to deadly flash floods. The storm must have broken over Makaleha Peak. She needed to hike out of this gully before the rains reached her and turned the already slick hillside into waterfalls of mud.
Makalani opened her arms to the darkening sky and appealed to the Hawaiian god of agriculture, fertility, and peace. “Aloha mai, Lono. I know this is the last month of the Makahiki and the farmers are praying to you for rain, but would you please ease your blessings for a few hours until I get out of this mess?”
Lono roared from the mountain and shook the rock beneath her feet. The overabundance of his blessings was rushing down the canyon to wash her away.
Tori Eldridge
Makalani scrambled out of the gully, seconds before the incoming rapids ripped the stump off the bank. Chunks of the hillside collapsed with every dig of her boot. The noise, like jets on a tarmac, swallowed her cries.
“E kala mai ia‘u. Please forgive me. I love you, my family. I didn’t mean to leave you and die.”
